Young Offender
by Sybil Rowan
Summary: *incomplete* 1st generations cyborgs escaped right after their surgery, and the 2nd generation cyborgs are tricked into believing their loyalties are with the Black Ghost. AU, 003009, 004002.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Young Offender

Author: Sybil Rowan

Pairing(s)/Characters: Everyone has role in this one, but Frances and Joe take center stage this time! The pairings run 009+003 and 004+002. As if you couldn't guess with me.

Rating: T

Summary: AU, 009+003, 004+002, the first generations cyborgs escaped right after their surgery, and the second generation cyborgs were tricked into believing their loyalties are with the Black Ghost.

Warnings: Alternative Time-line here, little bit of language, don't know when it'll be finished either.

Author's Notes: I increased Ivan's apparent age to 14 (but I make it unclear how old he truly is) I wanted to see what kind of effect that would have on them and him; I've made his mother pro-Black Ghost. Also, Joe isn't an orphan, at first, in this one. I just wanted to see some first generation battling second generation action. I wanted to see what changes would occur and their interactions with each other. It's really to explore some characterization in an altered setting. Keep in mind that the first generation uniforms were different so don't think I've lost my mind.

Disclaimer: Cyborg 009 is owned by Shotaro Ishinomori. Named after the New Order song that inspired this story.

Beta Reader: WingedPanther73, my wonderful hubby!

Date: December 31, 2009 (4:14pm) on going

Word Count: expanding

Chapter One:

Frances took a deep breath and forced herself to sit upright in spite of her throbbing headache. Her purse, overcoat, and hat were still with her. Memories slowly came back: the men in dark suits, the sedan sent to take her to her new ballet company, and Jean-Paul waving farewell. The memory of a white handkerchief pushed over her nose and mouth shocked her into awareness.

She balanced on her feet and glanced around. Her foggy vision was clear enough to see she was in some sterile hospital room. There were several men in white lab coats tending to equipment she didn't recognize.

"Where am I?"

Only one short, balding man turned towards her. He glowered and marched towards her. Frances couldn't help but notice a young, teenage boy walked behind him with slumped shoulders and a downcast expression.

"Get back on the table!" His French was passable, but he had a harsh accent she couldn't identify.

"No! I want to go back home! My brother..."

"Silence! You'll do as you're told from now on! Ivan, put her back to sleep."

"Please... Father... the American isn't doing well, and she doesn't want to be here either. I can feel it. This isn't what you promised me."

"This organization will take us to new heights. You'll stop being so resistant!"

Frances saw the thin teenager pale and tremble. The man grabbed the front of the teenager's shirt and shook him slightly. "Do as you're told if you want to see your mother!"

The teenager stepped forward and stretched his hand towards her. "I'm so sorry," he said. She gasped when his right, blue eye started to glow. Frances' legs gave out; she slumped forward, and her vision grew dark.

* * *

Frances heard waves in the background as she woke up again. This time everything had an unreal quality to it. Now she was on a beach at sunset. The teenage boy sat next to her; his heterochromatic eyes were fixed on the gently lapping waves.

She sat up and turned towards him. "Who are you?"

"My name is Ivan Gamo. You're, technically, inside my consciousness. I brought you here so I could talk to you. Alone. They have ears everywhere, but they still can't figure out how to pry into my head."

"What? That's... incredible," Frances murmured. No, this was a dream, and this boy was a manifestation of her fear. She was kidnapped and drugged, nothing more.

"I'm not a figment of your fears or the drugging you suffered."

Frances startled at the echoing of her thoughts. "I've been kidnapped, but by who and why?"

"The Black Ghost."

"Ghost?"

"Yes. They're a science and research organization that's funded by a group of ruthless men that call themselves the 'Merchants of Death.' Those men have tremendous influence over several world governments. Their goal is world domination."

"But..." Frances felt her brow furrow. She looked down at her bare feet. The cool, wet sand clumped as she dug her toe into it.

"You're still not convinced?"

"I'm a ballerina. What would they want with me?"

"You're an experiment to them, just as I am. They were looking for someone that wouldn't be missed by a family. Someone from the streets, but they chose wrong with you. Your brother, Jean-Paul, will be looking for you."

"Yes! How did you know about him? They told you?"

"No, I read your mind. They don't allow me any access to our files. They... they're... afraid of me. They made me, and now they don't trust me."

"So... you really can read my mind?"

"Everyone's mind, and I can do a lot more. I'm keeping a close telepathic link to the other one."

"There's someone else here?"

"Yes. He's an American. They have him under a deep sleep right now."

"What for? What are they doing to him? You haven't told me what they're doing to us."

Ivan turned his face to her. His grim, tense expression elicited a sense of dread. "They're surgically altering us into prototype weapons. They're augmenting our bodies with mechanization and electronic enhancements so we can be sold to countries bent on world domination. Once the planet is engulfed in total warfare fought by altered people, the Black Ghost will take over the weakened countries and rule. They'll keep the secrets to our weaknesses for that time."

"This is not real. It can't be real! I don't believe any group of people could be that evil!"

"There must be evil in most men. It's what keeps the Black Ghost alive."

Frances flinched at Ivan's bitter tone. She looked over at him again and laid a hand on his shoulder. He felt real and solid, not like a dream.

"Please don't say that. We have to have hope." She slowly released his shoulder. "So when is this going to happen to us?"

"It's happening right now. Jet is almost finished. They're prepping you for surgery. Pretty soon... you'll not be the same. You won't be entirely human any more."

"You have to stop them!"

"I can't! They have my mother hostage. They're very careful to not let anyone on the island know where she's located. Not even my father knows her whereabouts. Besides, they keep me medicated just enough so I can't concentrate to use the rest of my abilities."

"That man is your father? Is he..."

"One of them? Yes. He's the reason I'm here."

Frances took a deep breath and shook her head. She slowly absorbed what she had been told and then glanced at Ivan. "You look very young, but..."

"But I sound old? I may appear fourteen, but I'm actually..." He gave her a rueful smile and shook his head. "...a lot older."

"I wish you would stop finishing my sentences. It's convincing me you really can read minds."

Ivan let out a sharp gasp and leaped to his feet. His eyes were trained to some far off point in the deep, blue sky. Frances got to her feet and gave a slight shake to his shoulder.

"What is it, Ivan?"

"Jet is waking up in pain. He needs me. Also... my father... he's up to something. I have to go."

"No! Don't leave me! Please..."

"I'll do what I can to help you, but I can't do much of anything right now." Ivan turned towards Frances. He placed his hand on hers and squeezed. "I swear I'll be back after I check on Jet and see what's going on."

She squeezed his hand back. Slowly, his hand felt cooler and cooler. Frances watched the teenager's presence fade away into a shade of gray, then nothing. She took a few steps and glanced around. She was now alone on an empty, unfamiliar beach.

Frances sank to her knees and let tears flow. She crossed her arms and murmured, "Jean-Paul," over and over. Her voice carried over the waves, but no reply came.

* * *

_:Jet! I heard you.:_

The lanky New Yorker looked up through his haze. His dry throat was painful. A man in white surgical garb was laying aside a large serrated knife. It had a dull, crimson liquid with a blinding gleam peaking through.

He looked over towards another surgeon at his other side. Jet raised his head to see better what the man was doing. His tights had deep crimson grooves on them. The surgeon grabbed Jet's left tight and slid his leg away smoothly. Horrified nausea hit as he struggled to scream out.

_:Jet! Don't look any more! Sleep again.:_

_:My legs! They're taking my legs! What the...:_

_ :Sleep.: _

Jet felt a cool wave hit him. Blackness hit him. He felt as if he were floating again, and then, as if he were being tugged downwards. The smell of grass creped over the pungent antiseptic. His hands felt cool and good. He slowly sat up and realized he was now in a deserted park during an evening. The grass felt slightly damp under his hands.

It unnerved him to see an empty park. New York had people everywhere; now he was totally alone. A slight panic hit as he jumped to his feet. He waved his fist in the air and shouted, "I know you're here! Show yourself, kid!"

"Behind you."

Jet swirled around and glared at the short, skinny kid looking up at him with those eerie eyes: one blue, one brown. "There you are! What the heck is this? Where were you? I dreamed I lost my legs."

"This is the dream. That was the reality."

"What? You mean..."

"You woke up during the surgery to alter you. It won't be over for several more hours."

"So you mean I was really kidnapped?" Jet shook his head and forced a laugh. He flopped down on the grassy ground and gave Ivan a lop-sided smile. "Get bent kid. I probably drank too much and this is my hallucination in the drunk tank. Damn, why couldn't it be pink elephants?"

Ivan crouched before him with a stern look. It only made Jet laugh harder. He gasped suddenly as his legs felt like searing fire hit them. He grabbed at them and stifled a cry of pain. He bit his bottom lip, hard, as Ivan slapped his palm against Jet's clammy forehead.

Minutes later the pain lifted. Jet regained his breath as Ivan's hand dropped. He watched the boy stand on shaky legs. "I must go check on the others."

"What others?" Jet shouted after Ivan's fading form.

* * *

"Frances?"

She got to her feet and swirled around; she met Ivan's heterochromatic eyes. Frances gripped his shoulders, he was solid once again.

"What is it? Why do you look so grave? What's happened?"

"They've taken someone else. A man from East Germany this time, but he was severely injured in an auto accident. They're stabilizing him now. But... he wants to die... if he wakes up, altered like they plan, he will....." Ivan's took a deep breath and adopted a grim expression. "You see, his wife was murdered as they were trying to escape to West Germany. He's in psychological pain as well as physical. It's a strain just to absorb and release it."

"You're taking all of his pain?"

"Everyone's," Ivan whispered, pulling away from Frances' grip. She jogged up to Ivan as he retreated down the beach. She fell into step with him and looked down at his face. His brow was furrowed, and he had deep circles under his eyes. "You see, I was in a baby's body for a long time. Years. They only granted me a teenager's body so I could be of more use, but I still get tired over long periods of time."

"Oh, Ivan, you're protecting us, aren't you? More than you're letting me know."

"Don't worry about it. I can handle it." Ivan's pale face suddenly flushed; he wouldn't quite look her in the eye any more. "You're like me now."

"You mean I'm changed? Like you said?"

"Yes. You're cybernized. Pretty soon they'll wake you up. They've enhanced your senses a great deal."

"Why aren't they being stopped by police? Someone... anyone..."

"The Merchants of Death have enough money to bribe police or anyone else they need."

A wave of dizziness lapped at Frances. She rubbed her temples and shook her head. Ivan gripped her arm and said, "They're trying to wake you up. Go with them for now. We'll cooperate until the time comes. Right now, Albert... 004 as they call him... is still in shock and I'm still on heavy medication to keep me under control."

"No! I don't want to see them!"

"Listen, I'm working on persuading one of the doctors to cut my medication down. Please, Frances! You have no choice except to trust me. Please... please... I swear we'll leave this place as soon as I know how. I promise you'll see your brother, but you have to trust me. You're brave and sensitive. We'll need you."

She nodded and let a thick cloud of dizziness take over. Blackness, numbness, and coolness.

* * *

"Eat, girl!"

Frances glared at the old man, Ivan's father, Doctor Gamo, who stood over her. She looked at the dinner tray beside the stiff hospital bed. It was soupy oatmeal and orange juice.

"Where is Ivan?" she asked, not looking at Doctor Gamo.

"He's asleep, not that it's any of your business. I should have never let him bring you food," he snapped. "You better find a way to choke that down. We have a test coming up after 004 wakes."

She looked over to her left, where the German man was in a deep sleep. He was still wrapped in bandages and still had a callow complexion. What horrified Frances was that the man no longer had a normal right arm or his legs.

"What test, you sick bastard!" Frances flinched at Jet's, or 002 as they made her call him, sharp voice. She could barely understand his English words, she knew so little of it. Ivan had warned both she and Jet to not let them know they could communicate. The Black Ghost wanted their subjects to be isolated from each other, but didn't trust them alone in separate cells. "You've had us here for three damn days!"

"Oh... and where do you think you'll go? Back to New York?" Doctor Gamo declared in English accented with thick Russian, strolling over towards Jet's hospital bed across the room. Frances watched the man lean over Jet's scowling face. "Be grateful for what we did for you, you brat! Now keep your mouth shut. You don't need to keep your tongue for our purposes."

With that threat, the man turned and stormed out of the room with a flourish. Frances met Jet's smoldering brandy eyes. He turned his face away with an abashed expression. Frances felt embarrassed for him. Once Jean-Paul had tried to explain the male ego to her, but she laughed when he got flustered and declared, "Men have pride."

_:__Frances, Jet?:_ Ivan's telepathy pressed into Frances' mind.

:_Ivan, your father...:_ She formed the words clearly in her head.

_:__You mean Dr. Gamo. I'm still asleep. Albert will be awake soon. It's then that we can make plans to leave.:_

France picked up her orange juice and glanced at Jet. He was now lounging back on his stiff bed and gazing at the ceiling. Frances wished the three of them could have a direct conversation for once. She knew nothing of the lanky, redheaded American, and Ivan refused to tell her anything about him other than he was a year younger than her.

_:__The oatmeal is drugged. Eat only part and hide the rest. In three days they'll take the three of you out to the woods, a testing ground. It's then I think we have a chance. I've been communicating with Albert. He's agreed to come with us. He's stronger than I first thought... All of you are... both of you need to rest, and Frances, do not let them know you know the slightest bit of English.:_

_:__Of course, but... how are we to escape. What about your mother?:_

Several long minutes passed. A chill ran through her body; she looked to see Jet shivered too. Jet turned wide eyes towards her. She clearly thought, _:Ivan? What's wrong?: _

_:__My mother is no longer a concern. We'll leave now.:_

_:__Ivan, tell me what happened? Did they kill her?:_

_:__No, she... betrayed me. Gilmore told me she left me with my father so she could continue to be a Russian secret agent. She'll be here within a week. We need to leave before then because she's a very powerful psychic. I'd rather not confront her. On the positive side, Doctor Gilmore, is willing to help us escape. He's cut my sedatives down so I can start to use some more of my psychic abilities.:_

Frances felt her stomach sink with anxiety. _:We're family now, Ivan. When we leave here, Jean-Paul and I will take care of you. Count on it.:_

:_Get some rest. We'll talk tomorrow.:_

Frances laid back in bed as a scrawny nurse came in. She drew a drape between Frances and the two male cyborgs. The lights dimmed, and the nurse left. Frances tried to work on relaxing.

To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

Frances looked down at the green, yellow, and blue uniform she now wore. She tried to keep her shoulder-length, golden hair from flying in her eyes. She looked across the bed of the jeep where Jet and Albert sat in silence. Albert's head hung low, his elbows on his knees. Jet's fists were in his lap; his eyes were locked on Frances. She shivered when the jeep stopped at the edge of a forest.

Jet grabbed Albert's shoulders before he toppled forward. Black Ghost guards swarmed around the back of the jeep and dragged them out. Frances didn't fight; she took in the dusk, forest surroundings and concentrated.

It was just as Ivan had said; she could actually hear waves crashing against the rocks two miles from where she stood. It sounded as if it were happening by her ankles. The exotic, pungent flowering planets overwhelmed her sensitive nose. She sneezed twice and let herself be dragged to a clearing.

Frances stood on the grassy ground beside Jet and Albert. She was unnerved. These two men were strangers to her. She hadn't spoken a word to them yet. All she had was Ivan's word that these two men were trustworthy, but she admitted she did trust Ivan implicitly. They'd had so many telepathic conversations over the last two weeks. Still, who was to vouch for Ivan?

She and Ivan had confided so much to each other, yet she felt Ivan was still holding some things back. It was as if he were older, wiser, and in control; it had finally sunk into Frances he wasn't the fourteen as he appeared to be.

_:Get ready, Frances... Now! Do it!:_

Frances fell to the forest floor in a false feint at Ivan's telepathic command. She kept low while Jet swiftly leaped at two of the guards. He was so swift she barley could keep track of his actions. Her head jerked around at the rapid explosions. It came from Albert's metallic, right hand.

He appeared more coherent now. Albert quickly grabbed Frances' elbow and jerked her upwards. The German man pulled her behind him; Jet ran behind them. He was now aiming a small, electric gun at anyone coming up behind her and Albert. Seven guards lay on the forest floor within minutes.

"Where do we go?" Albert asked in French.

"Two miles northeast," she answered.

"Run for it," Albert said in English. He grabbed Jet's elbow as well before the three of them launched head-long into the lush forest now bathed in evening darkness.

Frances couldn't believe how energized she felt. No sweat, no cramps, no slowing even after the vigorous run to the rocky shore.

"Duck!" Jet shouted. He shoved them to the ground and launched himself into the air. It was the first time Frances could see the changes made on the American. He flew into the night with bright light trailing his feet. He drew the guards' fire as Albert cursed.

Frances turned and coved her ears as Albert leveled his hand and destroyed the three robotic guards with a rain of bullets. Albert turned towards Frances and was about to take her elbow; he was coming closer. "Watch out!" Frances screamed.

Albert swiveled and dropped five more robotic guards sneaking up on them. Seconds later, Frances heard another group approaching. Her eye went down to her right hip; an electric gun was there. She allowed instinct to take over. She drew it and held up with trembling hands just as two human guards appeared from the darkness.

One started to draw, but Frances felt her finger squeeze the trigger. She wasn't even conscious of the act until after. The bright electric flash hit the approaching guards and laid them low. She felt the gun waver, but Jean-Paul's voice came to her and said, 'Hold it firm, or I'll never see you again! Fight for freedom.'

She pressed her lips tightly together and concentrated on her senses. They were so extended it still caused her trouble sorting out all the information flooding her awareness. A flash a heat and light, Jet appeared beside her.

"Is she alright?"

"Yes, she's fine," Albert answered, prying the gun from her grip. "Frances is it?" She nodded. Albert went over and checked the human guards. "They're stunned, they'll wake up soon."

All she could do was nod again. She felt his left, fleshy arm around her shoulders as he guided her towards the rocky shore. "We're almost free, Mademoiselle. We'll get you home."

"Yeah, don't worry. The kid said he'd meet us and get us out of here. Where is he? Damn!"

"He'll be here," Albert snapped in German, which Frances knew better than English. Frances looked up to see Jet give a baffled look that grew hostile.

"I don't understand you! I only speak English!"

"I said you're an..."

A flash a blue light two feet to Frances' left filled the night on the beach, and Ivan appeared, along with Doctor Isaac Gilmore. Frances had a momentary flair of panic seeing Gilmore's white lab coat, but she quelled it quickly, remembering his pitying glances when the rest of the scientists weren't around. She was grateful that Ivan's appearance, no matter how strange, interrupted the argument. Frances rushed forward in time to stop Ivan from collapsing on the jagged rocks.

He wore the same green, yellow, and blue uniform she did. She pressed the end of her long, blue scarf to Ivan's bloody nose. He hesitated before gingerly pulling away from her and getting to his feet.

"Let's get to the dock before more come," Ivan ordered. Frances pulled herself together and raced after her male compatriots and the doctor, while listening for enemies.

They followed Ivan up on a dock, he raced headlong towards a small batch of slack guards beside the topside of a submarine. Ivan raised his hand, a flash of blue snaked out, and the guards all crumpled.

"They're asleep," Ivan assured Frances. He looked up at her with a stoic expression. "None of us want to kill, even if they are Black Ghost agents. Let's get out of here."

"We'll talk about everything later! Come on," Jet shouted. Ivan jerked his head to the submarine.

"It's empty. Dr. Gilmore knows a place to hide." Ivan coaxed her with a hand on her shoulder. She followed the men and young teenager into the submarine right before more guards appeared on the beach. Doctor Gilmore and Albert took the helm quickly and were able to get the submarine active.

Before she knew it, they were off into open ocean from the unnamed island. They depended on her enhanced senses to guide them through the mines around the island. Once away from the danger, they put the submarine on maximum speed.

Frances slumped down on the metallic floor beside Ivan. Ivan drifted towards her and stopped at her shoulder. She put her arm around the teenager as she watched Albert and Jet each sink into chairs in front of the submarine's controls. She was grateful Gilmore hovered around, giving them cheap coffee and blankets. The rest of the escape blurred into a haze.

* * *

Jet peeked out from his half closed eye around the dim submarine. He was slouched in one of the seats in front of the controls. The older man, named Albert Heinrich, who sat beside him, groaned and clutched his right shoulder.

"Hey, you okay, old man?"

The man's head snapped up. His face was full of ire. "You don't listen at all. You could have been shot out of the sky!"

"Don't lecture me!"

"Don't risk my life! I was depending on you to cover the girl."

"Listen... I do what I..."

The man groaned, clenched his teeth, and slumped forward. Jet looked to see the man's right metallic fingers twitching.

"Hey, doc. Come look at this guy's hand. I think somethings wrong with him..." Gilmore came walking up and was tugging up the green sleeve of Albert's uniform. "... I mean, I don't want him accidentally shooting off his hand."

"Just keep watching that monitor for any blips. I'll take care of 004."

"Sure," Jet grumbled. He cast furtive glances as Gilmore started unscrewing a small panel on Albert's wrist. He shivered and looked towards the monitor. He didn't have enough courage yet to see if his legs appeared like that.

* * *

Frances stepped out of the warm waves and onto the sandy beach. She was no longer groggy, which lead to a new problem. The bright, dawn light on the Japanese shore was blinding, the crashing waves and screeching gulls destroyed her concentration.

Ivan stepped behind her and helped guide her up the beach. Behind them were Jet and Dr. Gilmore with Albert between them. Gilmore explained that Albert's cybernetics hadn't been perfected yet, now he was malfunctioning. On the beach was a dark haired, Japanese man in thick glasses, distracting Frances from her worry over the German man.

"Isaac! Finally! I was afraid you weren't able to get away," the Japanese man called in English.

"Please, Kuzumi, help us get 004 into your lab. Like I said, I think you can help us without bring attention to us. You're still working at the University?"

"Yes, come on." The man waved them to a large, beach house. Frances smirked at Ivan.

"He looks as young as Gilmore. I figured he'd be more like the other Black Ghost scientists. Older."

"Black Ghost prefers to employ older, well-established doctors for their endeavors, however, they wanted to try something new. They believed younger men could be solidly indoctrinated into their beliefs. I have a feeling they'll change their philosophy in the future."

"But young men tend to be idealistic. Jean-Paul is." Frances drew in a breath and turned to speak to Doctor Gilmore, when Ivan's telepathy chimed in her head.

_:Idealism is what Gilmore is struggling with at the moment. He had wanted to help humanity with cybernization. Also... please don't ask right now, Frances. We have to worry about getting ourselves stable and strong. Then we'll worry about avoiding the Black Ghost. After that, we can go find your brother. Remember to be sensible, it could put his life in danger if you were to show up.: _

_:You're right, but I worry about how he's handling everything. It seems like it's been so long.:_

_:Almost two months.:_

Frances felt a chill as they entered the man's home. They were lead to a sophisticated basement laboratory. Frances couldn't help clutching Ivan's lean hand in a reflexive, protective gesture as she tugged him back towards her.

_:I'm fine, Frances. I read his mind. He has pity for us.:_

"Help get him up here on this bed, my boy... That's right, Isaac, that vial on the lower shelf... Help me get this blasted uniform off..."

Frances walked over to the hospital styled bed where Albert now lay unconscious. The two doctors hovered over him, busy with equipment. Jet backed into a dark corner of the room and sank down. He wrapped his thin arms around his legs, but kept his eyes firmly on the bustling doctors. To Frances, those eye looked utterly haunted and weary, like someone who lived a lifetime of degradation.

"Can I help?" Frances asked.

"Could you bring that sterilized tray over here?" Gilmore asked as he examined Albert's altered arm. France got the tray and stood by in case she could be helpful. Half way through the procedure, Jet and Ivan were sent to the kitchen to eat, and then ordered to get some sleep in a guest room on the second floor. They both obeyed without out a word.

"Are you tired, my girl?" Kuzumi asked.

"No, sir. I'll stay here. He protected me, so the least I can do is help him now."

"Very well."

The procedure went on for the rest of the day. Frances paid careful attention to everything the doctors did and said. She refused to be shy about asking questions. Acquiring this knowledge helped her feel useful, and it distracted her from her homesickness. Slowly, thoughts of Jean-Paul, Natalie, her other Parisian friends, and her life as a ballerina faded away to the immediate need in front of her.

* * *

"So is that guy going to live or what?" Jet asked Ivan after they reached the top of the staircase.

"I don't know," Ivan answered softly, turning drooping eyes towards him.

"But you can read his mind and stuff... right?"

"Not now. I expended most of my capital energy getting out of there." Ivan opened the door to the guest room on the top floor of the house. Jet watched him sit on the edge of the bed. Jet sat on the twin bed that rested across the room from Ivan.

Jet tugged his blue scarf off and started to undo the buttons on the top of his uniform. "Man, I'm burning this thing after I get some sleep."

"Don't. It has special qualities. It can withstand extreme temperature and help take the impact of bullets. They'll come in handy later on."

"Hey, kid, what you said about capital energy? What's that?"

"Mr. Heinrich's modifications weren't perfected. Neither were mine. We both had more extensive surgery done than you and Frances. The technology wasn't really advanced enough to use. In my case, I can only use my physic abilities in limited amounts before my brain shuts down."

"Then why do all this in the first place!" Jet clenched his fist and stared at it. He could still feel the sensation as if it were his flesh, but he found his breathing, strength, and speed had all changed.

"Some would say our powers are a gift and we should be grateful."

Jet's teeth clamped hard on his lower lip as his head jerked up towards Ivan. There was that unnerving, impassive expression Ivan constantly wore. "Grateful? For this? They took away my choice! It was my body until they... they... tore it up and threw it out like trash! But I guess that's how they see people. Like bits of trash to be used and thrown out." Jet shook his head. "Not me. I'm not going to be used by those bastards. One day... somehow... they're going to be sorry they screwed with me."

A brief flash of blue in Ivan's right eye, but it dimmed quickly. "Good. I had a feeling you would say that. You need to stick close to us. Don't go back to New York. It could be dangerous."

"I don't know if the cops are looking for me, and I know my parents couldn't give a shit. I've got my own thing going. I'll get back with my gang and lay low. If it's like you say, I can out run the cops now. Besides, New York is a huge city. I won't be found."

"You asked why they changed us even when things weren't perfect. We are the experiments. We are to be used as models so they can see the drawbacks and then find others to do this to. Don't you see? It's an endless cycle."

Jet flopped back on the bed and covered his eyes with his right arm. "It's not my job, kid. I have to look out for myself. I'm grateful to that guy and that girl down there, but I can't help them."

"You're afraid to help them. They remind you too much of what you just went through, and you fear it. You fear it's too much for you to handle and you'll be that same weak child at your parents' mercy."

Jet propped up his elbows and glared at Ivan. "I ain't scared of nothing! Not my folks, not those Black Ghost guys, and... certainly not you, Francie, and sauerkraut... So... just shut up or else!"

"Fine."

Jet watched Ivan settle back on his bed and breathed out a sigh. He detested how that kid could always see through him, especially, since he had spent years constructing his image and developing a strong front. He didn't want to think about how it was crumbing. Each day was getting harder to hold his anger in check. He'd found a goal to distract himself: get back to New York no matter what and leave this entire thing behind him.

* * *

Frances quickly dressed in a plaid skirt and cream blouse; it was furnished by one of Doctor Kazumi's students who was fond of western-styled clothing. She glanced around the small guest room to ensure she had left everything as neat as possible.

She scooped Jean-Paul's gold pocket watch off the nightstand before heading downstairs. It fit nicely in the skirt's pocket as she remembered his admonishment; it was only a loan to ensure she made her practices on time. Frances knew it meant a great deal to him; the pocket watch and the biplane were the only trace left of their war-hero father, a Second World War pilot.

She ran her finger along the edge of the watch, vowing to return it to Jean-Paul before the week was finished. She reached the kitchen and was yanked back to reality. Her three male compatriots, she was starting to think of them in those terms, in spite of the unfamiliarity still existing, sat at the table with the two thirty-something-year-old doctors. All were sipping coffee, except Ivan.

"Good morning, Miss Arnoul. Did you sleep well?" Kazumi asked, waving to the empty chair beside him.

"Yes, sir. Thank you for the clothes. I appreciate them."

"I'm sorry I couldn't get more, but we have to be careful about our approach. In another week I can probably get everyone some more."

"Don't bother, Doctor. We should be leaving your house soon, but it would be wise to stay in Tokyo," Ivan said. Frances suppressed a slight shudder; his voice was too authoritative for fourteen.

"What? You didn't tell me you wanted to leave," Gilmore chimed in, looking surprised. "We need to be careful about the Black Ghost. They have spies in the police, port authorities, and passport offices. It'll take us..."

"No, Doctor, you won't be staying in Tokyo. You'll have to go back." Ivan picked up a small apple and bit it.

"Yeah! It's not like we can trust you." Jet sneered at Gilmore, slapping his hand against the table. Frances gave him a sharp look, but no rebuke.

Ivan glanced at Jet and shook his head. "I've read his mind throughly. He has no secrets..." Frances noticed a faint blue glow from Ivan's right eye; then Jet's face flushed, his eyes filled with rancor as he crossed his arms.

"Anyway! You four need me! What about..." Gilmore started.

"Doctor, we need you more within the Black Ghost, as a double agent. You could be invaluable to us. I can modify your memories so they'll have the impression that I hypnotized and kidnapped you."

"But I don't understand! I feel horrible that my research harmed you. All of you."

Frances watched Gilmore give Albert a shamefaced glance. The middle-aged doctor cleared his throat, shook his head, and turned his face towards Ivan with a scowl.

Gilmore continued, "You'll need me to care for you."

"I think we do need Doctor Gilmore with us. We don't even know everything that's been done to us," Frances said.

Jet shot her a dirty look. "You stick with him, if you want."

"We stick together. We have no choice," Ivan said.

Jet opened his mouth, but Albert interrupted with an uplifted finger. "No. Miss Arnoul should go back to her brother... her life. Try to recover as much as she can. You can go back to the United States..."

"I can't! Even if I wanted to! And it's not your business why!" Jet gritted his teeth, ruefully shook his head, and started to fiddle with a silver lighter on the table. "God knows I wish I could."

"Then somewhere else like Australia or England. We'll figure it out after we get Frances home."

"But separated from each other won't be safe," Ivan countered. He met Frances' eyes. "The Black Ghost will be searching for us. We cost them a lot of time and money. They won't let us go easily." Ivan turned his head towards the German. "No doubt they'll search for us where we would naturally go, Mr. Heinrich. There is strength in numbers. You shouldn't let your experiences taint your logic."

"Then Jean-Paul is in danger!" Frances shouted, startled at the thought of being pursued. "So is Natalie and everyone I know. I can't just stay here." Frances unconsciously flinched from Albert's right, metallic hand. Her face blazed to see a moment of hurt cross the man's face. She clenched her hands in her lap and stared at them.

"My idea is to keep on the move until the Black Ghost stops searching for us as vigorously. Dr. Gilmore needs to go there and pass us information. I can create a system within the doctor's mind where I can channel into him at anytime. In the meanwhile, he will act as a Black Ghost researcher and not even suspect he's the one that helped us."

"But... I... I just can't go back. What they do is monstrous."

"It's the only way I know to keep track of them right now. Besides, you can also commit sabotage and help to prevent this from happening again. Please, Dr. Gilmore. Be sensible about the situation. Erika Gamo..."

"Your mother may be back at the facility now that you're gone. And Gamo just won't let you go."

"I'm aware of the danger. I'm also aware that you'll be in the greatest danger, being next to them. We have no alternatives."

Dr. Gilmore let out a huge sigh and shook his head, his expression now grave. "I owe this to all four of you. I still do have friends in the Black Ghost. Other scientists that I could persuade, in time, to be sympathetic to your cause."

"Ivan makes a lot of sense," Albert said, crossing his arms. "The doctor should go back, but I think we need to split up for safety. It'll be harder for them to track us. There is no reason we can't travel to France carefully and check on Miss Arnoul's brother."

"Yeah, but..." Jet started.

Albert gave him a small frown. "You struck me as an adventurous sort of fellow. Besides, you said you couldn't go back to New York for some reason." Jet was quiet for several seconds as Albert's frown turned to a smug, lop-sided grin. "Where else do you have to go?"

"Alright, alright, but the kid comes with us." Jet hitched his thumb at Ivan. "He's got some spooky things going on with him. It'll come in useful."

"I wouldn't dream of leaving him behind," Albert said.

"And don't think because of this... what happened... that I trust you. Or her. Or even the kid." Jet voice was softer as he picked up his coffee and gave Albert a scrutinizing look. "Any of you could be working for them secretly and just following the rest of us."

"Your suspicious mind must hide a guilty conscious," Albert answered smoothly. "You are the only non-European among us."

Jet's fiery glare opposed Albert's cool, self-satisfied expression. Frances bolted out of her chair; their attention focused on her. "You two pig-headed men. We have to stick together until we get to Paris! Throwing insults at one another is not helping."

She was pleased to see both of them had the good sense to be shamefaced. "She's right," Ivan continued. "All we have is each other now. Our bodies are changed so that we can never go back into normal society. Don't you understand? We can never go back."

Frances could tell some of the tension ebbed as Ivan stood as well. "It's settled. I'll manipulate Dr. Gilmore's mind tomorrow morning. Then you lead us where you want, Mr. Heinrich. I have no objections to going towards France."

To be continued.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three:

It was a chilly evening on the deck of the beach house, but Frances didn't feel compelled to move inside. Kazumi had brought home dinner, and Jet and Albert were still cool towards each other from their argument that morning. Ivan had complained of being tired right after breakfast. She had shooed him back to bed; he had been asleep since. Gilmore had been quiet as well; he checked on Frances only at lunch time.

She shivered and wrapped her arms across her stomach. So much had happened that she hadn't had time to process everything. Tears brimmed, but she held them in, fearing Jet or Albert would see her. They were still strangers to her.

"Miss Arnoul?"

She glanced over her shoulder to see Albert standing by the sliding glass door. She quickly, gracefully brushed her hand over her cheeks and turned towards him.

She took a step and said, "I'm terribly sorry for..."

He waved his left hand in the air and gave her a gentle smile. "I know what you're going to say. It's okay. I know my hand..." He flexed his gloved, right hand. "It can be unnerving. Let's just concentrate on the future rather than get caught up in petty worries."

"You're thinking about Jet?"

Albert's smile faded slightly. He walked over to the deck railing and leaned on it. "I don't think he's a Black Ghost double agent."

"I didn't think so." They both looked through the glass door. Jet was draped over an armchair, absently flipping pages of a Japanese magazine. Frances knew he didn't understand it; she guessed he was trying to avoid everyone else. He still wore the same scowl she remembered from breakfast.

"Just... rash... and pig-headed." Albert's voice caught her attention again.

"I'm more worried about Ivan. He's too young to be going through this. They've horribly scarred him." Frances leaned on the railing to Albert's right. "Also, what about you? You're marked by your hand. It'll be difficult for you to blend in." Frances laid her hand on his shoulder. She noticed his body tense.

"I've been thinking that Ivan can come with me after you're back in France. I figure I'll make sure Jet gets back to the States from Paris."

"After that?"

"I think the best would be to take Ivan somewhere remote. Switzerland... the Alps is my inclination."

"And just stay there for the rest of your lives?"

Albert's brow furrowed right before he turned his head away from her. "They never told you. Not the doctors? Not Ivan?"

"Told me what?"

"That we're virtually immortal." Albert paused a moment, the phrase rang in her ears above the ocean surf. "We won't grow older than we are right now. We can still be hurt, and you and Jet are more vulnerable to some things like poisons and illness than... Also... children for us isn't... we're all now... sterilized..."

"No... that can't be right. That means..."

"That's what Ivan meant when he said none of us can truly fit back into a normal life. However, I think you and Jet should try. You're both still young."

"But, Mr. Heinrich, I can't just... No children? Are you certain? I've always wanted..." His curt nod cut off her further questions.

A slight humming sound deep under the waves startled Frances. Albert turned towards her with a quirked eyebrow. "Someone's coming from the ocean. It sounds like one of those large U-boats that surrounded the island where we were held."

He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her into the den. Jet bolted out of his chair and tossed aside the magazine. "What's got you in a..."

"She heard them. They're coming after us."

Jet's face paled. He nodded and clenched his fists. "Well we should kick their asses for coming around."

"With what? Nasty comments only go so far," Albert quipped with a glare.

"You son-of-a..."

"Will you two stop! I hear someone walking through the woods."

"Just one person?" Jet asked.

"This is something big. Jet, take Frances and the doctors. Head towards town."

"But one person isn't a big deal."

"Do as I say," Albert snapped. Jet back down after an intense glare at the German. He grabbed Frances' wrist and tugged her upstairs. Jet started mumbling what Frances guessed were American obscenities she wasn't familiar with. "Go get Ivan. I'll get the doctors."

She opened the door to Ivan's guest room. He was sleeping with arms crossed over his chest. She ran to him and started shaking his shoulders while shouting his name over and over. She noticed that he weighed a lot heavier than she expected. It was as if she was trying to shake five boys at once.

"003!" Dr. Gilmore shouted out. She looked over her shoulder to see him, Jet, and Dr. Kuzumi at the doorway.

"I can't get him to move!"

Several rapid gun shots came from downstairs; she easily identified it came from Albert. Jet jerked her upwards, away from Ivan, by her arms; he turned her around to face him.

"I'm going down to help that guy!"

"But he said..."

Those brandy eyes turned volatile, then Jet shook her and shouted, "Get him the hell out of here! Now!"

He gave her a slight push away before bolting past the stunned doctors. The older men rushed towards Frances and loud crashing noises came from downstairs, along with small explosive noises. The three of them managed to get Ivan sitting upright, but he was still in a deep slumber.

* * *

Jet skidded to a halt beside Albert. He glanced at the plump woman who was tugging off white gloves. He raised an eyebrow at Albert's harsh expression trained on graying lady.

"What the heck are you doing! She's one of them isn't she? Get her!" Jet demanded.

"She's Ivan's mother. I'm not going to kill her," Albert snarled back. "Besides, she's has telekineses as well."

"You idiot! He said she's dangerous!"

Jet trained his eyes on her. Yes, she didn't look intimidating. That was until five photo frames from the mantle floated upwards and then hurled themselves towards him and Albert. They both ducked; Jet could see the woman's eyes glow a deep purplish color.

"Told you," Jet hissed. He quickly fished his switchblade out of his pocket and flicked it out. He turned to the woman. He didn't really want to stab a lady, but he had to threaten her, get her to back down. He would certainly bluff her with no qualms. "Lady, back down." He held the knife up and worked up his best belligerent expression.

She threw back her head and laughed. Albert shouted, "No! Jet, get rid of..."

The switchblade flew from his fingers before he realized it. It slowed in midair, turned towards Jet, and flew towards him. He flinched just in time. His eyes jerked towards the wall where his switchblade was now lodged as is wiggled slightly.

"Damn it!"

"Will you think before you act," Albert said in a low, irritable voice.

"Worry about her," Jet snapped, seeing knick-knacks and small pieces of furniture floating around the room. Albert brought his hand up and shot as objects were flung at them.

* * *

"We need to get him..." Gilmore's sentence was cut off as the man fell backwards. Kuzumi also jerked upright and fell over on the floor. Frances gasped in shock and realized that there was now silence downstairs. She struggled to pull Ivan upright, but paused at the subtle creaking of the bedroom door.

She looked over to see an older, plump woman with short grayish hair. She was dressed in a simple brown overcoat that didn't seem proper in the slightly cool Japanese evening. She gave Frances a vexed look and said something. Frances couldn't understand the strident sounding language the strange woman uttered.

"Leave us alone!" Frances shouted back in French. The woman expression grew even angrier.

The woman said something clipped in that language. Frances watched in awe as the woman's eyes started glowing a faint amethyst; she felt herself lurch through the air. She slammed into a wall. All Frances could do was struggle for her breath as she sat up.

"Why are you doing this? We haven't done anything to deserve this," Frances finally said after catching her breath.

The woman stalked towards her and pointed a finger in Frances's face. The woman screeched something incomprehensible and then Frances felt her throat tighten. Frances grasped at her throat and tried in vain to draw air. Her head throbbed as her vision darkened.

Ivan's voice came into Frances's awareness, but his words were foreign to her; she could breath again. She drew several quick breaths and focused her eyes. The strange woman and Ivan were facing one another. Ivan's angry attitude was unmistakable to Frances.

Ivan spoke again; Frances realized it must be Russian. It dawned on her that this woman was Ivan's mother. The woman gave a mirthless laugh and launched into rapid speech. She gestured several times to Frances, the doctors, and then finally the opened door.

Ivan shook his head, a steely expression came to his face. He said the one Russian word Frances knew. His voice was cool and soft, "Nyet."

She watch Ivan's right eye glow a bright blue; his fists clenched. Ivan's mother stretched her hand towards the bed. The sheets snaked out towards Ivan and rose. He held up his hands, the sheets ripped into tiny shreds.

A point of light appeared between the mother and son; it grew steadily brighter and alternated between violet and sapphire. It jerked back and forth between them just as Frances was startled by Jet's hand on her shoulder. She rose to her unsteady feet and noted Albert, who looked worse for wear, was helping the doctors.

"We need to stop her! She'll take him back to those people," Frances said.

Jet shook his head. She noticed his skin was deeply scratched. "She's dangerous. She flung us around and knocked us out with a lamp. She didn't lift a finger."

Albert leveled his mechanical hand towards the woman. He shouted in German, "Let him go!"

The glowing orb slammed into Ivan's chest and knocked him back onto the bed. Frances murmured his named, but Jet grabbed her arms before she ran to the Russian boy. The woman swirled around towards Albert and replied in German, "I am his mother. I know what's best for him. Besides, you will be back with the Black Ghost soon enough enjoying the same perfection Ivan has."

"You call this perfection?" Albert's hand wavered slightly, his jawed clenched.

"Surrender now, you pathetic experiments!" A violet hazy shield was between her and Albert. Frances had seen Ivan do a similar thing when they were in captivity. She knew Albert wouldn't be able to shoot the woman.

"Never," Albert said and jerked his hand above the woman's head. Ceiling rained down on her behind the violet shield. France watched the shocked expression as she crumpled under the debris; the violet haze dissipated.

Frances ran over to Ivan just as the boy was sitting up. His eyes drifted to the floor where his mother was unconscious. Frances helped him stand, but his eyes were fixed on the woman.

"Erika," he murmured.

"I'm sorry, Ivan, but I..."

"No need for apologies, Mr. Heinrich. We must leave soon because..."

"More are coming," Frances interrupted Ivan just as movement from the ocean came into her consciousness.

"What? On the run again?" Jet asked. "What about them?" Jet flung his hand towards the slumbering doctors and unconscious woman.

"I'll alter their memories and meet you out front. Hurry and get the car ready. Also, grab the suitcase in the hallway. It has our uniforms and guns in it. We'll need them after all."

"But, Ivan..." Frances started.

"Go," Ivan whispered. "They'll be here soon."

Albert tugged Frances's arm towards the door, and she followed. She glanced behind her briefly to see Jet following; he scooped and picked up the suitcase resting at the top of the staircase. Panic hit her stomach as more sounds, machines and marching, became louder. She sat in the backseat of the small sedan, trembling. Jet tossed the suitcase to her, she clutched it to her chest.

Albert started the ignition. The headlights flared on; Ivan appeared suddenly, slamming into the hood of the car. Frances opened the car door beside her and shouted, "Come on... come on..."

"I'm here! Go!" Ivan shouted as he flopped down beside Frances and slammed the door. The car lurched forward into the dark night. Frances quickly, carefully pinched Ivan's nose and had him lean his head forward against flowing blood.

"I'm taking us to the docks. We'll find a way out," Albert said. "Frances, tell me when we've lost them."

She let Ivan gingerly shrug her off and switched her concentration to the men combing the woods around Kuzami's house. She began to worry about the doctors as the men approached. Sounds of the Black Ghost agents faded out as sounds of ship horns came into Frances's awareness.

"We've lost them."

"For now," Jet ominously finished her thought.

* * *

"And that's when 004 ruthlessly attacked your wife. I hope she's recovering," Issac Gilmore said walking down the dank, dark hallway. Gamo glanced over his shoulder with a furrowed brow.

"We don't know yet. The injuries to her head have seem to put her in a coma... but it shouldn't have been that severe. You're sure Ivan had nothing to do with it?"

"He was unconscious until the end when 002 and 003 grabbed him. They ran after that. I tell you I don't remember much about my captivity, but I do remember that. And taking me to my friend and lying to him! Those horrible ingrates!"

"Calm down, Gilmore! Hopefully, Erika and can be brought out of her coma and she can tell us more. Right now Scar has sent agents to Moscow, New York, Paris, and West Berlin. He's hoping they're stupid enough to run home. We can catch them then."

"I heard rumors that there are going to be budget cuts and a freeze on further development."

"Until the four cyborgs are found, Scar doesn't think it's a good idea to proceed. Especially, when the Merchants of Death aren't pleased with the loss of their investment. They want to see their merchandise back under our control before they loosen the purse strings again."

"I see. Wise idea," Gilmore murmured. "Well are there any real leads to where they went."

Gamo paused and turned, hands clasped behind his back. A devious smile spread across his face. Gilmore's head started pounding in time with his pulse.

"My bet would be Paris. One of them has a close relative. However the captain in charge believes they split up. Not me though. Ivan is too smart to let them be divided and conquered, but if we hope to get them back..." Gamo's smile faded into a scowl. "... that's what we must do. By the way, Doctor Gaea and Doctor Uranus are ready to meet with us about the changes needed on the acceleration device. Damn it! We've lost some of our data with 002 gone. That mouthy boy! When we get them back, Scar will punish them horribly."

Gamo swirled back around and started down the hallway again. Gilmore murmured, "Good," in a hollow tone. He mechanically followed Gamo and succumbed to his hazy feeling.

To Be Continued.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four:

Frances couldn't repress her smile as she stepped off the small boat onto a Monaco dock. She clasped her hands in front of her chest and turned her smile towards Albert's grim expression. Her smile faded when Jet jumped onto the dock behind Albert and sneered towards the city.

"Wow what a dump! This old city is crumbling down."

"What! How could you dare criticize one of the most beautiful European cities!"

Jet waved his hand dismissively and spoke in flawed, haphazard German. "Hey, no city beats the Big Apple, but I am grateful to be out of that floating garbage can. Three months...."

"It was unbearable! Your incessant complaining!" She replied in French, knowing full well he now understood every word she uttered; to her annoyance, he seemed to stick with German. The New Yorker had picked up French almost overnight because his grandparents were all Italian immigrants and only spoke to him in Italian; he could speak French almost fluently when he put his lazy mind to it. But with the German Jet picked up, it seemed to Frances, he was trying very hard prove something, but she couldn't grasp what.

Jet's face scrunched and turned red; he revered to English and said, "You ain't exactly..."

"Would you two stop your childish behavior for once!" Albert snapped gravely in German. He shot them both a harsh glance. France felt her own face flush. It had been a hard three months trapped with Albert, Jet, and Ivan. They had tried to maintain peaceful travel while sequestered in the belly of the small, Japanese fishing ship, however, but the situation wore hard on all their nerves.

Mainly, Frances founder herself bickering with Jet, or Albert bickering with Jet. From time to time, she bickered with Albert. Ivan remained silent almost the whole time. The peacemaker role shifted around as it was required. She came to the conclusion it was well past time to part ways. Besides, she agreed with Jet about one thing. They would be safer separated from each other; it'd be harder for the Black Ghost to trace them.

"We need to travel to Paris," Ivan said, appearing by Frances's elbow.

"What about those fishermen?" Albert asked the psychic boy.

"They'll go back to Japan and forget everything about us. We won't be traced. I made sure of that," Ivan assured Albert. "What we need to do is find a way to get cleaned up and new clothes. We can't wear these around." Ivan hoisted up the suitcase with their green, blue, and yellow uniforms.

"I can't agree more," Frances said, glancing down at the the wrinkled plaid skirt and stained blouse she wore.

"Hey... can't you hypnotize some of these shop people into giving us clothes?" Jet asked Ivan.

The Russian shook his head. "If I do this too much, it could bring unnecessary attention to us. We should try to manage without using our abilities."

"He's right. Maybe there is some sort of day work around," Albert mused, looking towards a row of shops and then back at the docks.

"I'll get us money. Don't worry about a thing," Jet said, jogging down the street.

"Wait a minute, you..." Albert started.

Jet swirled around and shook his head. "Wait right here. I'll be back soon."

Frances gasped as Jet disappeared from sight down an alleyway. "Albert, what do you think he's up to?"

"Don't know, Frances. Let's go have a seat at those benches and wait on that fool."

The three of them waited, sitting on a bench by the dock. Frances kept checking Jean-Paul's watch in aggravation. A high pitched metallic whine hit her ears after twelve minutes elapsed. Jet's body went from a blur into a solid form.

"You used your acceleration device in spite of Ivan's warning?" Frances asked, not liking the smug look on the New Yorker.

"Yeah well.... I wanted to test something out. Besides, I got us plenty of dough," Jet said, waving a fist full of francs in front of Frances's face.

"Where did you get all that money?"

"I boosted it." He shot Frances a patronizing look that sent her temper over the edge. Albert clasp her wrist with his gloved hand.

"No. We have little choice. We need to quickly get clothes and then get on a train to Paris. Now is not the time for a fight in the street to draw attention to ourselves. Especially, since our American friend has already pushed the limit."

Jet glared at Albert. "You're a pair of ingrates. I got us money and all you guys can do is bitch at me how I got it. Well I didn't see either of you coming up with ideas to get us out of this jam."

"We'll talk later." Albert grabbed the money and handed Frances some of the francs. He tucked the rest in his pocket. "Meet us at the train station in half an hour. We can clean up and change in the restrooms."

She clenched the money, swirled on her heels, and marched down the street to the nearest ladies' boutique.

* * *

"I mean... what is it about dames? I mean... I'm getting us cash and making sure she gets her pretty butt back to Paris. Why is she so sore at me?" Jet was drying his hair off after washing it in the sink. He looked at Albert's reflection in the neighboring mirror. The man stopped combing his hair and met Jet's eyes in the mirror.

"She thinks you're immoral."

"Immoral? No... not after what we've been through. Stealing some money is not a big deal! Especially, if we're in a jam like this."

"I do agree with you. Sometimes laws have to be broken, however, you're reckless. You proved that over and over."

"Better to take a gamble sometimes. What if we just sat back at that freak show because it was safe? Hun?"

"You're... what? Seventeen? Eighteen?"

"Eighteen!"

"Then you still need to learn some moderation. It comes with age."

Jet shot him a wicked smirk. "Oh yeah? What about Francie then? She certainly wants to run back to big brother and hunker down. When I get back to New York I won't be looking up my parents, that's for sure. So where is the moderation in what she's doing?"

"She needs to learn some moderation too, but hers is to take more risk. "

"You got me there."

"How do I look?" Jet turned towards Ivan and chuckled at the odd-fitting navy suit.

"You should've let me pick out your clothes. You look like a square."

"You look fine. Let's go."

* * *

She smoothed the front of her yellow dress down as she left the train station's restroom. Frances admitted she felt better in clean clothes and with cleansed skin and hair, in spite of the earlier argument. She quickly joined Albert, Jet, and Ivan by the ticket window.

Albert was wearing a dark green suit, and Ivan wore an over-sized dark blue suit. Jet, on the other hand, was dressed like some of the beatniks that hung around Parisian cafes, a black turtle-neck and jeans. At least he would fit in with the other Americans that usually roamed Paris.

"We've got the tickets. It'll be ten minutes," Albert said, leading the group towards the platform. People were boarding the train; they integrated into the crowd and made their way to the ticket taker. Frances didn't release her breath until after Albert had all four tickets punched and secure in his jacket pocket again.

She followed Albert into a set of four seats, two facing the other two. Frances quickly sat by Albert to avoid being near Jet. Ivan thankfully sat across from her. As the train lurched, Albert unfurled a newspaper. A few minutes later, he looked up and announced, "Things haven't changed too much since our time away."

"It's been... what? Five, six months? What were you expecting?" Jet asked, there was curiosity rather than the sarcasm Frances expected.

"Not sure, but we need to keep our eyes out for anything odd. Governments coming under attack, strange banking collapses, anything that's not explained, but affects entire populations."

"You're trying to keep track of their influence to avoid them," Jet said.

Albert gave him a lop-sided smile. "Exactly. After Frances is back with her brother, I'll send you back to America. I recommend some other place than New York."

Jet was silent, he looked thoughtful as he leaned against the train window. Frances felt a surge of pity for the hardened teenager's brooding look. She could glean there was some trouble Jet had been in before he was kidnapped; he seemed doubtful he could go back to New York without authorities looking for him. He kept everything else a mystery.

She felt empathy for him being parted from his beloved hometown. After all, what if the Black Ghost had gotten to Paris and were watching Jean-Paul. What if she couldn't settle back into her life as a ballerina. She took part of Albert's newspaper to keep these thoughts at bay.

* * *

Frances couldn't help clutching Albert's left, flesh-like hand in both of hers. They were across the street in a narrow alleyway. They both peered towards the apartment where she and Jean-Paul lived. The apartment was dark as night sky, but the city around them was bright, vibrant, and noisy.

"Now Paris is pretty cool. It reminds me of New York. Only old."

Frances shot a dirty look over her shoulder at Jet. "That's my home. I don't think Jean-Paul is home though."

"No. He's not. I feel no one in the apartment. Everyone in the building is asleep. We need to be careful when we slip in so no one sees you, Frances. I don't sense anyone from the Black Ghost, but it doesn't mean they can't come around and look for us later. You should only contact your brother until we know the whole situation."

She turned to look at Ivan. He was in the shadows, nursing a bleeding nose while leaning against a brick wall. She suppressed her instinct to care for his bloody nose, she nodded instead.

He swiped away the last of his blood with a handkerchief and said, "Lets go while we won't be observed."

Frances took out a head scarf and wrapped it over her golden hair. Indeed, Albert was already wearing a traditional German jeager hat, matching his suit. Jet pulled on a homburg styled hat and glanced out of the alleyway. The four of them jogged across the street. Frances let them in her building and lead them to the loft apartment. She quickly retrieved the spare key from the top of the door frame and let everyone in the dark front room.

She went right away and drew the drapes and lit a few dim candles on the kitchen table. Jet whistled low and said, "Snazzy digs you got here."

"What? This is a rather modest apartment," Frances replied, waving matches out. "It's all Jean-Paul can afford. He's worked so hard to put me through school since out parents passed away six years ago."

"Well it's nicer than the dump my parents have."

"Aren't you worried about your parents? You never mentioned them once... until now," Frances asked as they all peeled off their coats and hats. Jet's whole body stiffened as his face flushed. At first Frances thought he was angry, but she caught the brief ache and longing in those brandy colored eyes. Jet vigorously shook his head and settled on a hostile attitude.

"I could care less." His tone was eerie and flat.

"That's a horrible thing to say about your parents. I would give anything to see my parents again. You're so lucky to still be able to talk to them." Frances started boiling hot water for tea. Jet flopped down at the kitchen table where Albert and Ivan now sat.

"You don't know them, Francie." Jet crossed his arms and slouched in his chair. His bitter eyes were locked on her.

Her jaw clenched, but it was Ivan who soothed her by projecting in her mind, _:Frances, his parents were excessively cruel towards him. He's been deeply scarred by their abuse.: _She glanced over at Ivan, his right eye pulsed light blue. _:He's a surviver as much as Albert is. You should cleave to them from now on. You'll need to learn how to be like them, and they'll need to learn how to regain their humanity through you. Don't you see, Frances, that we all need each other.: _

_:But, Ivan, we need to go back to our old lives and try to find wholeness again. How can I __possibly__be responsible for some juvenile delinquent and a widower? I don't understand? Why come with us and encourage us to come here if the plan wasn't to part ways.:_

_ :I have reasons you'll know soon enough.:_

She turned away from Ivan, with aggravation, and tended her kettle. Soon they'd be out of her life and she wouldn't have to cope with their jaded personalities any longer. The kettle started to whistle; she started pouring hot water in four mugs.

As she set the kettle down, she heard Jean-Paul's voice faintly, coming from down the street. He was saying, "...and I still am unsure. I'll start again tomorrow. How about a nightcap?"

"I'd love to. You know I'll have to go back to the company in two days," Natalie replied.

"I know. I appreciate all you've done to help try to find Frances," Jean-Paul said. There was a somberness to his voice Frances hadn't heard since they had lost their parents.

She looked over at her compatriots at the dinning room table and said, "Jean-Paul is coming up the stairs right now with my best friend."

"Do you want us..." Albert's question was cut off by the turning of a key in the lock and the front door swinging open. Frances set the kettle down and laid eyes on her beloved brother.

The shock on the blond man's face was almost too much for Frances to bear. Tears sprang to her eyes as she walked over to Jean-Paul.

"Frances? What are you..."

All she could do was cry after she threw herself in his arms. He slowly embraced her and murmured her name softly three times. He jerked away slightly and held her by the shoulders. He looked down into her eyes and shook his head.

"I'm real, Jean, please... I'm back. Don't worry about...."

"But Frances... what happened? Where have you been? You've scared me to death!"

"No... it's not like that... I was kidnapped, but I have to..."

Jean-Paul tensed and looked over at the table where Ivan, Jet, and Albert sat fiddling with teacups. "You bastards! What the hell did you do to my sister!"

"No! They had nothing to do with it! They helped save my life, Jean! They are in as much danger as I am in right now! You must help them too!"

Jean-Paul turned a confused face towards Frances. "What? What's going on?"

"Please sit down." Frances turned towards Natalie, who clutched the collar of her light sweater. Her face looked stunned and uncertain, almost un-trusting of Frances. "You too. I'll tell you some of what happened to me." She turned to the other cyborgs. "This is Herr Heinrich, Jet, and Ivan. Gentlemen, this is my brother, Jean-Paul Arnoul, and my best friend, Natalie."

* * *

"But I don't understand what kind of experiments you're talking about. What kind of experiments? I mean, Frances... it all sounds so... bizarre."

"I can't tell you any more. It wouldn't be right for these men. You must trust me. I'll tell you details later, but just know I'm telling the truth and you must... must... trust me."

Frances could read Jean-Paul's skepticism, his handsome face was furrowed in deep thought rather than it's usual lax expression. He jolted up and cast dark looks towards Albert and Jet. She knew he still didn't trust them. They, thankfully, hadn't said a word during her whole explanation.

He finally sighed and looked at Frances with worry. "Of course I'll stand by you and protect you, but... it's not fair for you to keep such secrets from me."

"I know, but really, Jean, trust me. I was kidnapped, taken to an island laboratory, experimented on. We escapade and made our way here from Japan. That's all you need to know for now. Anything else would put you into great danger. We are probably still being followed."

"But what kind of experiments, Frances?" Natalie asked.

"Not right now. I can't talk about it. We were all altered in different way. That's all I can tell you right now."

Natalie looked skeptical as well. Also, there was something in the look she shot Jean-Paul Frances didn't care for. She couldn't quite understand it.

"Monsieur Arnoul, Jet and I will take our leave so we can make arrangements for him to get back to the States. I ask that you keep Ivan here until I can return."

"But, Herr Heinrich, will it be safe?" Frances asked as he and Jet retrieved hats and coats.

"Just until morning, then I'll come back for him."

"Please be careful. And, Jet..." Frances bolted from the table and walked over to the lanky redhead; he appeared confused. She couldn't think of much to say. The irritation towards him flew from her mind. All that was left was the memory of him risking his life for her during the escape. All she could say was, "Travel safely."

He gave her a brief, his face turned almost embarrassed. "Hey... watch out for those guys."

Frances watched them leave the apartment as her chest grew tight and apprehension swelled. She pushed away her worry with the thought about how right Albert was to split them up. It was safer to be spread out. She looked over to Ivan who sipped the rest of his tea.

_:His logic is wrong. We are safer in greater numbers. Not one of us, even me, is able to avoid or resist the Black Ghost indefinitely. They will gain strength and come after us all. Then they will try to alter others to be like us. It is our duty to...:_

"Stop it! I have no duty! This was forced on me! I'm just a ballerina! I hate violence! I will not be forced into it!" Frances calmed her breathing down realizing Jean-Paul and Natalie looked shocked at her outburst for no obvious reason to them. Her face grew warm.

"I'm sorry I upset you, Frances. I worry about all of us as well. Our survival is my immediate concern." Ivan stood up from the table. _:My long term goal is to rid the world of the Black Ghost.:_

She nodded. "Let's get some rest. I'll bring you some blankets and you can sleep on the sofa."

"I want to stay over too, Frances," Natalie offered. Frances felt slightly cool to the idea, but she pushed it aside. After all, Natalie had always been there for her through every trial and triumph. She felt she should include Natalie in her troubles now, but something told her this was too much to ask Natalie, and even Jean-Paul, to bear with her.

She nodded reluctantly. "Sure."

To Be Continued.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five:

"It looks like we have to get you a passport for when you land. There's no problem with us getting a ticket and such, but..."

"I know. I'll just use my acceleration device when I land. Sneak out. No problems there," Jet said, leaning back against the bench on the observation deck. He looked at Albert's furrowed brow. "I know what you said. I'll stand out. After all, only business men really fly on airplanes, but I can get a suit before then. What else is eating at you?"

"It costs three hundred... American."

"What! Why not five or six? I thought this was a bad idea. It'll take me a month to boost that kind of dough. Even with my new trick."

"It was the way I thought would be the quickest to get you home. We'll try a ship. We'll get train tickets, go to the nearest port city, and then put you on a boat back to New York."

"Fine. Whatever I have to do. How much do you think that'll cost?"

"Don't know yet. It's getting late. We better find a place to rest. I don't think it's a good idea to go back to the Arnoul home yet."

"I agree. He thinks we're the ones guilty of something. Figures," Jet griped and followed Albert out of the bustling airport. "Too bad I can't just fly myself home," he whispered, glancing around the crowd.

Albert's lips twisted into a wry smirk, but he didn't say anything. They found a nearby cafe, ordered coffee, and acquired a newspaper. Jet also looked around and quickly found a place to buy cigarettes. He lit himself one and offered one to Albert.

Albert took one as well, barely taking his eyes off the newspaper. Jet didn't bother looking at the French type. He could speak French, and understand it fairly well, but he couldn't read it. He took a drag off his cigarette and enjoyed the first rush of nicotine he'd had in close to six months.

He remembered running from the cops and hiding behind several crates. He also remembered his irritation at seeing his pack of cigarettes was empty; he crumpled the pack right before the men in dark suits approached him, claiming they wanted to help him. He took a drag off his cigarette and looked around the bustling street. There was a part of him that wanted to see those men again, teach them a lesson.

"...over to the bakery and..."

"What?" Jet snapped at Albert, vexed that his revenge fantasy was interrupted.

Albert sighed, ground out his cigarette, and said, "You need to take what's left of the money and go to that old lady over there sweeping. The sign in her window says she has a room for rent above her store. French people that age still don't care for Germans, but adore Americans. Just rent it out for two weeks. I want to make sure we weren't followed to France, and I want to make sure Frances will be safe here. Her brother certainly doesn't understand the whole situations so he needs a few days to take it in."

"Geeze... you need to lay off acting like everyone's old man," Jet said, before draining his lukewarm coffee. He stood and turned; he was excited to try out his sloppy French on someone besides Frances.

* * *

Frances woke up and stretched. She looked over to trundle bed on the other side of the room where Natalie was still sound asleep. Natalie had wanted to talk about what had happened to Frances, and she seemed interested in what Frances was doing in the company of strange men. Frances feigned exhaustion, and they fell silent, unlike their other sleepovers.

She quietly slipped out of her darkened bedroom after she slipped a robe over her pink nightgown. It was her own nightgown, not something borrowed or stolen. A wave of relief and thankfulness swelled as she left her room and walked over to the dim parlor. She worried seeing Ivan sitting on the sofa, wearing oversize pajamas from Jean-Paul.

"Did you sleep well, Ivan?" Frances asked the apparent teenager.

"I can't sleep right now. I'm saving up my capital energy. It's at a high, and until I use it up, I doubt I'll sleep much."

She sat beside him and put her hand on his hands resting in his lap. "What a terrible curse you carry with you." She paused as she pondered her next words. "I know that Albert has plans to leave with you, but..."

"You want me to stay here, with you, rather than go with Herr Heinrich."

She felt miffed. "Please be careful. I haven't told Jean-Paul everything about you yet... and Natalie is still here. Yes, I do want you to stay because I'm worried about you. I mean... there is wisdom in parting, but I can't help be concerned for you. That woman, your mother, is so horrible."

"You were going to stay by my side and protect me from her, weren't you? I never did thank you for risking you life for me. All of you were willing to stand up to her. But, if I must choose to stay with you or go with Herr Heinrich, I'll go with him."

"But why?"

"Because when he finally does come to rest and no longer has to worry about us, he could fall into a deep depression. He's running from his pain by devoting himself to protecting all of us. If I travel with him, I'll be able to slowly heal him with my abilities."

"He has no where to go?"

"Just like me: no home, no family. His home is gone too. Like I told you, his wife was killed in front of him. He has to deal with it yet."

"How sad for you both."

"On the contrary, Heinrich and I are the lucky ones. You and Jet have too much keeping you..." Ivan paused; Frances could hear Jean-Paul rummage through his burrow. "Your brother is awake. We'll talk later."

Frances turned her head to see Jean-Paul open his bedroom door. There were bags under his eyes and his shoulders were slumped. "Jean-Paul, you look exhausted."

"I couldn't sleep very well. I was trying to sort things out in my head."

"Monsieur Arnoul, you should go to the police and continue to plead for them to look for Frances," Ivan said.

Jean-Paul looked a little taken aback. He put on a reassuring smile, which Frances knew was a mistake, and knelt in font of Ivan. He ruffled the Russian's odd, light colored hair, and said in a tone reserved for small children looking at his plane, "She's back now, and they still need to find the men who did this." He then stood up and looked at Frances. "We'll go to the police station after you get dressed. You'll need to tell them everything so they can find those men and they can be brought to justice."

"But, Jean-Paul, they have influence with the police and..." Frances's throat tightened; her vision blurred. She managed to say, "Don't you see there is no justice for what we've been through."

She noticed Jean-Paul looked shocked at her declaration; it was right before tears rolled down her cheeks and sobs came welling up in spite of her desire to control herself. She felt his large hands on her shoulders, he tilted her back slightly. She meet his eyes and wasn't surprised to see anger and determination there.

"My same big brother. Always so protective of me," she said after she got control again.

"I guess for now, a few days at least, it won't hurt to pretend you're still missing. But, on one condition."

"But, what..."

Jean-Paul held up his finger and shook it slightly. "When I get back for dinner you must tell me everything that's going on. And... I want to talk to those men who came with you."

"I think Jet is leaving soon, so is Herr Heinrich."

"I know, but I want a full picture of what's going. You asked me last night to protect them too." He gave her a warm smile and squeezed her shoulders. "I was too surprised last night to really think straight, but I need to try to help them too. It's the right thing to do."

She flung her arms around his neck and gave him a fierce hug that he returned. "Thank you so much."

"Of course. I'll go to the police. Then I have a delivery flight to make. It's down in Nice so I'll be back before dinner. You should stay indoors and keep the drapes closed. I'll leave Papa's pistol on my nightstand. Ah... I know you hate it, but if I stay home suddenly after the police station, and they are looking for you, it would look suspicious."

"Okay. I'll stay in."

"Good girl. I'll be back as quick as I can."

"I should go check on Heinrich and Jet," Ivan said.

"No, you should stay here with Frances," Jean-Paul insisted. "I'll go and find them tonight."

Frances was surprised to see Ivan remain quiet as Jean-Paul stood up, went to the door, and put on his jacket. "Take care. There's fruit to eat."

After he left, Ivan stood up and went to Jean-Paul's room. Frances said, "Wait. I know you're thinking of going anyway."

Ivan shut the door, a brooding expression on his thin, pale face. "Frances? Did Jean-Paul leave?"

Frances turned to see Natalie standing in her bedroom doorway. Frances nodded and asked, "Are you hungry?"

Natalie nodded. She and Frances got apples from the small kitchenette. Ivan eventually came out of Jean-Paul's room, now dressed in his over-sized navy suit. He stooped and picked up the suitcase hiding the four green uniforms. His intense eyes met Frances's.

"I'm going to go see the other two. We'll be back before evening."

Frances nodded, tight lipped, and let him leave the apartment in spite of her concern.

* * *

Jet sat up in the darkened room and rubbed his eyes. They were heavy from a restless night. He slowly moved his neck around against the crick in it, wondering exactly how changed he was physically if he could still feel stiffness and the rumble in his stomach.

Jet slumped over, also wondering what prompted his generosity. He had slept on the settee that was much too short for his lanky legs. He glanced over to the bed across the room and paused before lighting a cigarette. He remembered when he saw Albert's mechanical right arm draped over the edge of the bed. It wasn't generosity, just bad luck.

Last night was bizarre to Jet. After he had secured the loft apartment, he and Albert roamed the streets. They had gotten a few more clothes and more countries' newspapers from a newsstand. The strange part to Jet was that they were quiet just about the whole time. Usually, he couldn't help but poke at the older, German man; tonight, Jet was too exhausted and too bored to try to aggravate the man.

At the newsstand, Jet had swiped a pack of playing cards and a book Albert had been looking at. When they got to the apartment, Jet flopped on the settee and tossed the book to Albert. The man looked baffled, but thanked Jet. He had expected a lecture about stealing and found himself sorely disappointed that he didn't get. Almost irritated he didn't get a rise out of the man, Jet played solitaire, while Albert settled back on the bed and read.

Just as Jet started yawning, he asked Albert what the book was about anyway. Albert ground out his cigarette and looked up. He told Jet it was 'The Count of Monte Cristo,' a French novel Jet hadn't heard of. According to Albert, it was about a guy falsely accused and sent to prison for fourteen years. After the man escaped, he sought revenge on everyone who had destroyed his life. Jet had found himself laughing out loud, feeling punch drunk from the last five months.

"Now that sounds like a story worth learning to read French for."

"I could teach you."

"Naw... I'll be out of this country and back in New York. I'm going back to my gang and lay low until I know everything is cool."

Albert looked back at the book and mumbled, "As you wish," in German.

"Hey, I'm tired. If you're going to read, I want the bed."

Albert looked up and smirked. "I'm here already."

Jet shuffled the cards in his hands and smirked back. "Draw you for it. High card gets the bed." Jet walked over to the edge of the bed; Albert took part of the stack. They both held them up, and Jet hit vexed at seeing Albert's king of spades beside his two of hearts. He didn't bicker, but retreated back to the settee and let Albert continue reading.

Before he knew it, he drifted off into a fitful sleep. He was troubled by nightmares of waking up with no legs, men in white masks, or violent gang fights. Now he was awake and staring at Albert's mechanical arm.

He began to feel lucky, because it could have been so much worse. But it was horrible. His legs didn't appear like Albert's arm, like he had feared, but he found his feet no longer had feeling, and the bottoms were modified. His feet moved, but were absolutely numb. He looked down at them in the dim light and moved his toes slowly. His grim thought was disturbed by a slight knock at the doorway.

He jumped up quickly and asked in French, "Who's there?"

"It's me," Ivan replied from behind the door.

"Hold on," he grumbled. He threw on a jacket over his tee-shirt and gingerly opened the door. He slipped out and shut the door. "Heinrich's still sacking out. I thought I was the night owl. What's up with that? Francie kick you out?" Jet pointed to the large suitcase Ivan held in both hands.

"No. These are your uniforms from the Black Ghost and the ray-guns. If you insist on leaving, you'll need these." Jet glanced and glared at Ivan.

"Don't be talking 'bout that shit out here," he whispered, grabbing Ivan's upper arm. He tugged Ivan down with him to sit on the top stair above a deserted, narrow alleyway. "Also, I don't ever want to see it again. Like I said, it needs to be burned. By next week, I'll be back in the States, and I won't ever think about this ever, ever, again."

"Don't be so certain. You can run from them, but not forever. They will catch up with you. Not next week, but maybe a decade from now when you least expect it."

"I'll worry about it then." Jet sighed and slumped forwards on his thighs. He glanced over at Ivan; a wave of compassion hit Jet at seeing the boy's blank expression. "Hey, kid... You know, if you want... well... Heinrich is a bit of a stuck up jerk. You don't have to do what he says. Why not hitch a ride with me to New York. You could do what you want and besides... My gang could really use someone who can do what you can do. After all, those two don't know what it's like. Really like."

"You mean to have ruthless parents?"

Jet paused a moment and nodded. "So how 'bout it? Like I said, I wouldn't bust your chops like those two."

"It's ironic how all of you want to protect me, but none of you are willing to acknowledge the truth of having me around. We're all in grave danger."

"Yeah... yeah... yeah... fine. Stay with sauerkraut if you want, or Francie and her square brother. Makes no difference to me," Jet grumbled and rested his chin on his arms.

"I'm here because Monsieur Arnoul wants both of you to have dinner with him tonight. He's come around."

"Screw dinner. I'm about some breakfast. Let's get food and then wake up Heinrich."

"You're right. The bakery is making me hungry."

"Ha! You are human after all. We'll make sure to get him," Jet jerked his head towards the door to the apartment, "some food."

"You know, he shouldn't be sleeping like this. It's ten in the morning. I think it's starting."

"What's starting?" Jet jumped up and stretched.

"His limit." Jet followed Ivan down the stairs, baffled at his meaning, after he threw the suitcase in the apartment.

* * *

"So... Natalie... everything looks so clean. Jean-Paul looks well fed. It looks like you've been a real friend." She walked around, inspecting the counters and bookshelves.

"Well, it was the least I could do," Natalie murmured and wouldn't quite meet Frances's eyes.

"Is everything fine?"

"Yes, fine, but I do have a question. Now what do you plan on doing? I mean... it's not like you can show up at the Company again. Dancing is such a public career, which is such a shame because you'll have to find something else to do."

"Not necessarily," Frances said, sitting on the couch again. She didn't miss Natalie's hands clenching together in her lap. "Natalie, what's been going on with you while I was gone? Things haven't changed that much, have they? In a few weeks, when this is all cleared up, I want to dance again. Just be on stage... with you... won't that be wonderful."

Natalie's eyes narrowed. "I've got to go. Practice is in a hour." She rose, went to the door, and paused. "Tell Jean-Paul I'll be back tomorrow."

With that, Natalie left. The door slammed; it made Frances flinch. France walked over to the window and watched Natalie jog down the street. She felt a flair of anxiety, wondering how she would reclaim her life, and wondering where to start.

* * *

Jet slammed the apartment door after Ivan darted in, carrying a grocery sack. He looked over to where Albert sat at a small table. He had several different newspapers from around the world spread around him. Albert was studying a list on a piece of paper, a cigarette dangled from his lips, but it wasn't lit.

"Hey, Heinrich, we got you some lunch," Jet announced. He was annoyed the German man didn't even look away from the paper. "Whatever."

_:Try again:_, Ivan projected in Jet's mind.

_:I was going to!:_,Jet thought back, glaring at Ivan.

"Come on, put the paper down and eat," Jet said, taking the grocery sack from Ivan. Albert looked up at Jet with a cross expression and examined the bag.

"I've been trying to figure out some of the best places for everyone to live. In the United States, your best bet would be to live in the South."

"What! The South! Not on your life!"

"Frances should move to Monte Carlo or a nice resort town of some sort. She could hide the best there."

"Whatever. Quit thinking that far ahead. We can't predict what they'll come up with. Who knows if they really can find us. We'll be needles in haystacks."

Albert didn't reply, just got out an apple from the grocery sack. Ivan sat at the table with Albert and looked over the newspapers and list.

"He actually has a good plan here. He's studied this and he's figured out some of the Black Ghost's logic here. A country's capital should be avoided, along with large, financially driven cities. They could cause us a problem."

"Yeah, I know, but big cities, like New York, would be trouble for them to comb through," Jet said, getting a banana from the sack.

"You're right about that, Jet. The odds are high that they won't want to spend a lot of money and resources on chasing us among a lot of people. Still," Albert trailed off before running his mechanical hand through his hair. "We still have time to think about it. You can't leave for three more days. I called."

"Fine. Guess I can put up with you that long," Jet said and smirked at Albert. "Hey... Francie's brother invited us for dinner tonight. He wants to talk things over with us."

"I'd prefer not to, but if we don't, he could underestimate our situation." Albert turned to Ivan. "Why don't you go back and watch over Frances. Let us know if something happens."

Ivan nodded and left. Jet gave a large sigh and asked, "How about some poker?"

"What's that?"

* * *

"Natalie, you seem so distracted. You really need to get some rest," Giselle said. Natalie nodded. "After all, now that you're the Prima Ballerina, you need to maintain that high level."

"I know. I just have so much on my mind," Natalie said.

"I know it's hard losing Frances. But you need to honor her by doing the best you can do now that you have her spot."

"I'm doing my best!" Natalie shouted and ran out of the dance studio after hoisting her duffel bag on her shoulder. She shoved the door out of her way and ran head long towards the end of the alleyway, but tears overtook her.

She stopped and leaned on a brick wall, trying to quell her anger. She didn't want to go back to being Frances's substitute. All eyes were on her now, and it was a bitter thought at having to give that up. At imagining Frances reappearing and loosing what she had now. Not to mention that she had Jean-Paul's attention now.

"Excuse me."

Natalie gasped and turned to see a man in a black suit. She backed away slightly as the man removed a stack of photos from his trench coat.

"Sorry to startle you, Mademoiselle. I'm with the police. I'm doing an investigation on a woman who disappeared from this studio five months ago. Did you know Frances Arnoul?"

"Yes. I haven't seen her for a long time. Did you get any leads?" she responded numbly, swiping at her tears.

"Actually, we're afraid she's fallen in with some bad company. Have you seen these men?" Natalie's eyes went wide at seeing photos of the two men Frances was traveling with.

"What did they do?"

"The younger one is wanted for murdering someone in New York. The other one is suspected in the murder of his wife. If you know where you friend may be, you'd be saving her from some rather unscrupulousness men."

Natalie looked at the photos again and took them in her hands. Wouldn't she be a good friend to Frances by telling this man what she knew? Then again, Frances may be forced to leave again if her location was revealed to the police. Isn't that what the boy said this morning?

"Yes, I've seen these men."

To Be Continued.


	6. Chapter 6

(Special thanks to Aseptic for sending me on a new direction with the Natalie angle. A comment, I believe, helped make this chapter stronger)

Chapter Six:

"You're a cheat. That's all there is too it." Jet and Albert walked up the staircase to the Arnoul apartment.

"You won more games. You really are a strong player... when you were patient."

"Nag and bitch... nag and bitch..."

Albert shot Jet a dirty look as they came to the apartment door. He knocked on it as Albert crossed his arms. The door flew open and there was the tall blond man, Frances's brother, looking eye-to-eye with Jet.

"Come in please." Jean-Paul stood aside and let them inside the apartment.

"Wow, that smells good," Jet said, seeing Frances tending a huge soup tureen and a salad bowl.

"It's 'Crepes St. Jacques.' It's seafood crepe with a white sauce," Frances explained. She brought the bowls out and placed them on the neatly set table. "Come and have some."

Jean-Paul, Jet, and Albert sat at the table. Frances called out, "Ivan, where are you?" The boy emerged from a small door to the side the living-room. "You shouldn't spend so much time in that attic. You've been up their all afternoon."

"I just need time to concentrate," he said, sitting beside Albert. Jet didn't like the kid's thoughtful expression; it was as if he were keeping a secret.

"Let's eat," she said and sat at the table. For several long minutes they ate in silence.

Jean-Paul was the one who finally said, "I think it's time I have more details on what's going on with my sister. I want to know who you guys are and why everything must be so secretive right now."

"Hey, this isn't our fault. We're were all kidnapped like her." Jet's defenses rose. "Trust me. No one in their right mind would volunteer to go through what we just did."

"Go through what? I don't understand!" Jean-Paul's hand smacked the table, a steely look came to his eyes.

"Monsieur Arnoul, our bodies have been changed in different ways. Instead being totally flesh and blood, we're now a mixture of flesh and electronics. Our blood was taken and remixed with fluids to help sustain machines, not lungs, hearts, and livers. We still have what makes us a human deep inside, but we no longer share a physical kinship with humanity."

Jet found himself shiver at Ivan's eerie description. He looked over at Frances and felt a wave of pity for her. She was staring at her lap, but he could see something glistening on her cheek.

"So the experiments you talked about last night? It was some sort of surgery? Why would someone do that? It sounds too fantastic, that science has gotten that far. And who are these people who did this?"

"It's all true. An organization has been working on it for decades. They've gotten to the point where they can take a person's body and replace the parts with mechanical and electronic parts. We were experiments. Just randomly chosen... except for Ivan," Albert said, nodding towards the Russian boy.

"It's all to unreal. I have trouble believing."

Albert tugged off the glove on his right hand held it up. Jean-Paul bolted out of his chair, his wide eyes were locked on Albert's altered hand as he moved his fingers slightly.

"We can't spend time arguing with you any longer. Your sister is still in danger. We need to make sure you accept this and will protect her after we leave."

"Certainly, Herr Heinrich," Jean-Paul murmured as he sat back down. He reach over towards Frances's shoulder, however, she jumped up quickly and ran to her bedroom before he touched her. The loud door slam jarred Jet. Jean-Paul now looked glum instead of shocked.

After several long, silent minutes. Jean-Paul put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his clenched fists as Albert pulled his glove back over his hand.

"What can I do to help?" Jet felt relieved to hear the blond man's question, but still, he wasn't going to just hand out his trust.

* * *

Frances sat up on her bed in her darkened bedroom. She glanced at the crack between the door jamb and where the door should meet. Warm light came from the living-room. She could see Jean-Paul, Albert, and Jet all clustered around the dining room table; they talked about how to stay ahead of the Black Ghost and the things Jean-Paul could do to ensure Frances's safety.

All three men were smoking and drinking some homemade beer from the landlord while they chatted. Part of her wanted to run out and scream at Jean-Paul to stop talking to them, ignore them, reject them. Instead, it seemed Jean-Paul and Albert were totally at ease with one another. Jet had even made Jean-Paul laugh a few times. The last thing Frances wanted was her old life tainted by the world of cyborgs.

Another part of her found pride and comfort at how well they all got along. She loved her brother so much for the sacrifices he had made to finish raising her after her parents were killed in a train accident. Also, she loved him for his determination to make her dreams of the ballet come true. And, lately, Albert, Jet, and Ivan had all put their lives on the line for her at one time or another; therefore, she couldn't help but care fiercely for them even after such a short time.

Her conflicted emotions made her ashamed. How could she even want to reject the people who had stood by her?

_:You're afraid that you'll not be able to forget you're a cyborg, if Jean-Paul accepts them. That means he will accept you, and you're afraid he'll treat you differently anyway.:_

She gasped and looked over at the corner. Ivan floated in midair; an eerier blue glow surrounded him. She reluctantly nodded.

"How did you get in here?" she whispered.

_:I can teleport; however, it takes an inordinate amount of energy. I only do it when I have a very good reason.:_

"What reason?"

_:I felt your emotions. They could lead to self-loathing__, i__f you keep having these thoughts. Please find acceptance for yourself, Frances, and all of us.:_

She took a deep breath, smiled at him, and nodded. Ivan lowered to the ground and walked towards the cracked doorway. He peeked out, no expression on his face, as he dabbled a trickle under his nose with a handkerchief.

"Ivan, please stay with me and Jean-Paul. Paris a wonderful city. You know, I can't think of a reason Heinrich has to leave either. He could stay too. Jet, if he...." There was a subtle creak on the stairs outside the building. "Someone is coming up to the apartment. Sound like a slight person... like..."

"Let's wait here. It's Natalie," Ivan said, with a furrowed brow as a knock sounded. Frances joined Ivan at the door and peeked out above his head. Jean-Paul, Albert, and Jet looked startled. Jean-Paul waved them into his bedroom and went to the door, after retrieving their father's revolver.

"Who is it?" Jean-Paul voice was harsh.

"It's me," Natalie called out. Suddenly, Natalie pounded furiously on the door. Jean-Paul yanked the door open, let the slight girl in, and slammed the door shut.

"Natalie! Are you okay? You're shaking and crying? What's happened?"

"Oh Jean-Paul..." She gave a slight sob, holding her wrist to her nose. Frances didn't realized she was about to run out to comfort Natalie until she looked down to see Ivan's thin fingers around her wrist. She jerked her attention back to the scene outside her bedroom without the urge to join it.

"Get a hold of yourself," Jean-Paul coaxed and got her to sit on the couch.

"I told them about those two men."

"What? Who did you tell? When?" Jean-Paul's voice snapped into a strident tone. His eyes were blazing as he stood over the girl. She flinched and started crying. Frances's throat turned dry. She could hear Jet swear in the next room and Albert scuffle with him.

"I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to... but he said he was the police... He said the American killed someone! Don't you even care? Both of those men are suspected of murder, but something didn't seem right. I don't really think they were police after all, but I think what they said was true! I believe they're both murders! The one killed his own wife to get out of East Berlin! The other stabbed a seven-teen-year-old boy! Frances is in danger!"

"You stupid bitch," Jet shouted, jumping out of Jean-Paul's bedroom. Albert jerked his shoulder back, his own eyes bored into the sobbing girl on the couch. "You're lucky I'm not the type to hit a girl, but you come damn close!"

"Cool it!" Albert snapped.

Natalie gave a stifled yelp and cowered against an armrest on the couch. Frances opened her door and walked out into the living-room with Ivan trailing behind. She walked over to the couch and sat beside Natalie. The girl looked up with tear-stained remorse written over her face.

Frances quickly embraced Natalie. They hugged tightly and then Frances held Natalie's shoulders at arm's length. "Why?"

"I told them because you are in danger. I wanted to rescue you." France could tell it was a lie. She almost expected Ivan to say something, but he remained quiet.

"Please tell me the truth! We won't have much time. You need to be honest with me now." Natalie remained quiet; she wouldn't look Frances in the eye. "If you were ever my best friend, you need to be honest with me now. We'll have to leave soon! Natalie... I beg you..."

"Okay! I did it! I'm now the Prima Ballerina! My parents were always so critical of me! This was my chance to make them proud! You were always so lucky and talented! When you were gone, I had my chance to make them proud and..."

Natalie's face blazed hot. She raised shame-filled eyes towards Jean-Paul. The blond man's face grew softer. "Aw, Natalie, did you think I was interested in you? I didn't mean... I'm not, you know. You're too young for me and I think of you as my sister's friend, not someone I would date. It's a respect towards Frances. I'm sorry if I lead you on."

"Natalie, is it true? You wanted my position? And my... brother?" Frances asked softly. All the girl did was nod. France gasped as she was yanked off the couch by Jet. He stooped down in Natalie's face.

"You traitor! People who squeel to the cops are dirty! You stabbed her in the back? She trusted you!"

Natalie didn't answer, just buried her head in the crook of her arm and cried. Ivan got in between Jet and Natalie and waved his hands to get them silent. Frances trained her acute hearing to try to understand what Ivan sensing.

She could hear it, the click of guns. She nodded to Albert's baffled expression. He nodded and yanked his gloves off. She felt Jet's arm around her waist as Albert and Jean-Paul carefully took defensive positions at the door and window respectively, at Albert's silent direction. Natalie cowered on the couch while Ivan sat on a dining-room chair.

They gunfire ripped through the apartment, however, Jet's acceleration device had Frances in another world. Slow-motion destruction slammed around them, but Jet pulled her with him, down and then towards the attic access. She watched her brother and Albert shoot out of the window and door, but she didn't see Natalie or Ivan any longer. The metallic whine echoed around her as Jet dragged her behind him to the attic.

They dropped out of Jet's acceleration mode. The loud ricochet of bullets slammed into her ears, painfully. Jet jumped up and spun around.

"How do we get out of here!" He shouted over the gunfire.

"But what about..."

"Ivan has got them! We just worry about ourselves."

She pointed to her left and got to her feet. "There is a small dormer window. We can get out."

Jet followed her and grabbed at the iron bars covering the small window. He yanked. Frances joined him. Together, they popped the iron bars off with a loud crack and a rain of wood splinters. They shook it off. Jet helped Frances towards the opening first when three men in dark suits broke through the door. Jet shielded Frances from the rain of bullets.

"Jet!"

"Shut..." He staggered to his feet, eyes fixed on the opening. Crimson and gray liquid dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He yanked her towards him. "...up!"

Jet jumped out of the window with Frances in his arms. She clung to his neck as they were suddenly propelled through the air by his boosters. She bit her lower lip as he cradled her and landed on a rooftop close by her apartment. She didn't part from Jet, but supported him and had him lay down when he groaned.

"Jet! Jet! Please! Don't panic. I think I can help you. Where did they hit you?"

"The back. On the right," he answered and struggled to turn on his side. She helped him while trying to remember all the information she had learned at Doctor Kuzumi's house. She kept her ears sharp. No one was following.

"Do you have a knife?"

"Here," He said, struggled to fish it out of his pocket, and handed it to her. She quickly cut away a place on his clothing and his artificial skin. She sliced more and revealed silvery, artificial muscles, but, more importantly, it revealed the damaged nerve line that sparked intermittently.

"Jet, you won't be able to move your right arm or breath through your right lung for a while after I cut this. You can still fly low level, but your lungs... they are tied to your flying... I think..." She shook her head. "If I don't do this, it could kill you, because it's frayed."

His head jerked around and met her eyes. The fear, anger, and exhaustion were not unmistakable, but then there was some expression she had never seen before: calm. He nodded, "Whatever you got to do."

He turned his face away as she found the wire again. She slipped the blade under and yanked. He cried out briefly and flinched. "Oh good... night... that feels... so effing... good..."

"Let's go."

He rolled and looked at her with sober eyes. "Save yourself and run for it."

"Come on! We've got to move," she said, helping him up. They staggered down a fire escape and ran down the dark alleyways, using Frances's enhanced vision. "Where is your apartment?"

"About six blocks over. Heinrich wouldn't be so stupid...."

"No.. they probably haven't figured it out yet. I think that's the only place we have to look for them."

"'kay..." He grimaced and leaned against her as she lead him back towards the fire escape.

* * *

France heard Albert's heavy footsteps down the street, behind him were Ivan and Jean-Paul. See checked on Jet, who was laying stomach down on the bed of the loft apartment above the bakery. Albert quickly unlocked the door and slammed it shut after the trio were safe inside. She rushed to Jean-Paul and hugged him fiercely.

"What happened?"

Frances turned to see Albert kneeling beside the bed, examining Jet's wound. The redheaded New Yorker smirked weakly and said. "I did my Sir Galahad impression, but it didn't work out so well."

"Natalie?" Frances asked Albert.

"Ivan moved her home. Somehow... with his abilities. We need to move though. Now that they know we're in Paris, they'll all be here in no time. We have to get out of this country."

"I'll fly you to Switzerland. From there, we'll figure it out. We can sneak the company plane out."

"Great. Let's go," Albert said, helping Jet sit up and support him. Ivan grabbed the suitcase and had a ghost of smile as they left the loft apartment behind.

To Be Continued.


	7. Chapter 7

(I used Doctor Dressler from the reissued manga, volume 4, pages 116-117. Of course, 0010 to 0013 start making their appearances here. I've twisted them some, but you should recognize them. This chapter is heavy on characterization, more action in the next.)

Chapter Seven:

She had never once felt nervous over Jean-Paul's flying. He had taken her up dozens of time, but she felt panicky now. It was dark outside the small cargo plane's windows. She looked behind her. Ivan sat cross-legged on the floor. Albert sat next to him, Jet was laying beside him, wrapped in a small wool blanket.

They had all been so silent during the trip. It was another reason she felt panicky. Jean-Paul was always happy-go-lucky and always striking up a conversation. Jet was also a talkative person. Not a word came from them; then again, Jet was struggling to breathe. Ivan didn't project any thoughts into her head, either.

She watched Jean-Paul fiddled with the controls and push the yoke forward. She knew enough to know that Jean-Paul was starting to land the plane. She settled in the seat beside him and closed her eyes as the plane slightly bumpy with touchdown. The engines came to halt.

"We're here. This is an old, abandoned airstrip. The new one is now thirty miles away, nearer Basel. The hanger doesn't have electricity or running water, but it does have a dormitory with several beds."

Jean-Paul and Albert helped Jet up and took him out of the plane. Frances followed with Ivan by her side. He still carried the wretched suitcase with their uniforms and weapons. They walked upstairs to the wide open dormitory located over a massive hanger bay. It had ten cots and several footlockers. Frances could smell the dust and slight mold.

She watched Jean-Paul and Albert settle Jet on the first cot by the door. Jean-Paul quickly found a large, green, metallic square and turned the knob at the top. "Aw.." he said, with a large delighted smile. "The Swiss Army still builds the best stuff. This flashlight has to be ten years old. Still works!"

"Yeah... well why couldn't Black Ghost have hired them to make my guts?" Jet mumbled, then coughed.

Jean-Paul angled the light to the best position so they could see the small corner of the room where Jet was resting. He fastened the thick leather strap securely and crouched by Jet. "You, my friend, look horrible." He looked up to Albert and asked, "How do we fix this fellow up?"

"Don't know. We have one contact, but he's in the Black Ghost. It's not like he can come and fix us on a moment's notice... not without giving us away." Frances knelt beside Jet's cot; she gingerly touched his forehead.

"Amazing. He feels clammy."

"We do have some flesh, still. We can feel pain, and we aren't totally invincible," Ivan explained. He stood at the foot of the cot and stared down at Jet. "When I projected to you to grab Frances and run, I didn't mean for you to take that kind of risk. It's troublesome to get repairs." Ivan explained. Albert started to pace a little with a furrowed brow. "We'll have to figure a way for us to get more educated about our physiology. Herr Heinrich?" Ivan swirled around and watched the pacing man. Albert's eyebrow quirked, but he didn't pause pacing. "There is also Doctor Kazumi."

"It's around midnight. That means it's morning in Japan; he'll be teaching. We can't exactly go and bring attention to him. The Black Ghost may be watching him. Also, there is the problem of bringing him all the way here."

"You're right about the attention on Kazumi and getting him here is troublesome. I thought about teleporting him, however I expended too much energy getting Natalie home and altering her memories. She was... unexpected. I could teleport to Japan, but I would then have to rest for a while." Albert paused and looked down at Ivan. "It would take me at least a week's worth of sleep."

"That is... troublesome," Albert agreed.

"Kazumi was approached by the Black Ghost, however, he rejected them. He wouldn't be the only one. Either Gilmore or Kazumi may know someone close by who may be sympathetic to us."

"It's worth a shot. We'll have to call them from Basel, carefully. Ivan, come with me, you seemed to pick up some Japanese."

"If Kazumi doesn't know, then I'll read Gilmore's mind. That would be the end of my strength. Let's save that as a last resort."

Frances's attention turned back to Jean-Paul as he loaded their father's pistol. Albert paused before leaving the dormitory. Jean-Paul waved them on and said, "We'll take care of ourselves. Don't worry."

Albert clenched his jaw. He bent over the suitcase and retrieved his ray gun. He nodded towards Jean-Paul, turned, and left. Frances looked over at Jet and was relieved to see him asleep, with normal breathing and heart rate.

* * *

"What if they don't come back?" Frances asked. Jean-Paul sat by the door to the dormitory, his back leaned against the wall, his arms resting on his knees. He looked up at Frances; he looked as exhausted as she felt.

"Naw... that German guy is very bright. He'll be back."

Frances stood from beside Jet's cot and walked over to one of the narrow, dusty windows. She peeked out to see a bright morning over the Swiss countryside. Small, white flowers dotted the lush, green field. Part of her had the urge to take a walk.

She felt Jean-Paul's hands on her shoulders. "Frances..."

"No, I don't want to talk about it."

"But I do!" She gasped, looked over to make sure Jet was asleep, then walked away from Jean-Paul. He followed her to the doorway, down the stairs, and out of the hanger bay. She took a deep breath of the crisp air.

"You need to talk to me, Frances. You can't run from this."

She turned to look at her brother. "That expression on your face, it's the same as you had at Mama and Papa's funeral."

"I don't want to lose my sister, too."

She sighed, shook her head, and walked towards the field. She sat on the ground. Jean-Paul flopped down beside her.

"I'm so confused, sometimes. I don't understand what this is going to mean to me... for the rest of my life. Jean-Paul, I can't age any longer. I knew I couldn't stay in one place for a long time, but I still want a chance to live out my life, the life I had planned. I still want to dance and to have a family one day. I want to spend our holidays together. I'm just so afraid. Mostly, I'm afraid of the Black Ghost catching us and forcing us to work for them. It was a horrible nightmare I couldn't wake up from. What if they never leave us alone?"

Jean-Paul absently plucked grass. "I don't know, yet, but I will make sure you never have to go back to that horrible place again." Jean-Paul's expression grew dark, he whispered, "Let me ask you this, do you believe Natalie is right? That they committed murders?"

Frances had been pushing that thought away from her awareness, but she thought over it carefully, finally shaking her head. "Herr Heinrich is a widower, but it is clear that her death was an accident. I believe that to be true. As far as Jet? I can't tell you much about his life before I met him. I do think he has a good heart, even though he had troubles before."

Jean-Paul nodded. "I think they're both victims of circumstance."

She was silent as she contemplated Jean-Paul's handsome face. It struck her how he was in danger now. Just being around her could kill him. She didn't give voice to her thoughts, because she could predict his denials and his staunch instance at helping protect her. However, she realized this problem was larger than some schoolyard bullies picking on her. Her older brother couldn't confront these men and chase away her problems.

Frances heard a creaking noise coming from the dormitory. She forced a smile and said, "Jet is up. He shouldn't be moving around so much."

"How do you know?"

"My senses are all enhanced. I can hear and see things at great distances."

Minutes later Jet slowly stumbled out, looking groggy. His right arm hung useless at his side, but he seemed able to function. Jet gingerly sat in front of Frances and took as deep a breath as he could.

"This sucks. When is that guy and the kid coming back?" He wheezed and let out a stifled cough.

"We don't know. Soon, we hope. They took the beat-up old sedan in front of the strip last night. I hope it held up. They've been gone for almost nine hours," Jean-Paul answered.

"Aw that guy'll be back. I ain't worried." Jet fished around the jacket draped over his shoulders and took out a cigarette. He tried lighting it, but ended up gagging horribly. He glowered at it, ground it out, and looked at them after he regained his breath. "That's it. I quit."

"Probably a good thing," Frances said. He rolled his eyes at her; she was about to argue with him over his negative attitude.

"Hey!" Jean-Paul jumped up, tugging Frances with him. "We should do something productive while waiting for them. Help me do a post-flight check."

"But I don't know anything about planes."

"I know. Come on," he said, pulling her with him. She looked over her shoulder to see Jet following, a lop-sided smile on his face.

* * *

Ivan replaced the phone on the cradle and shook his head at Albert. "Kazumi wasn't aware of anyone in the area. It looks like there is only one choice. I must read Gilmore's mind."

"But won't that knock you out?" Albert asked, glancing around the lobby of a small hotel on the edge of Basel.

"I'll be as thrifty as possible."

Albert watched the boy close his eyes. He could see a faint glow under the eyelid. He turned his back and kept a wary lookout. Several minutes later, he felt a tug at his elbow. He looked at Ivan who was dabbing under his nose.

"I was fortunate. I took control of Gilmore and was able to look at the personnel itinerary. There is a Doctor Otto Dressler lecturing at the university. He's due to leave town tomorrow morning. I wasn't able to find anyone closer."

"Fine, we'll pay a visit to Herr Doctor and persuade him to visit Jet."

"I don't need telepathy to know what's on your mind. We must be very careful."

"I'm still deciding," Albert claimed.

* * *

Albert sat at the back of the lecture hall, listening to Doctor Dressler give a speech on increasing crop growth and some of the progress he had made. Albert found himself baffled by this man. On one hand, he was a Black Ghost researcher. On the other hand, the man seemed sincere about solving the world's hunger issues.

Albert looked down at his gloved hand and flexed his fingers. His first instinct was to try to talk to the man honestly and ask for his help. After all, Gilmore was sympathetic. He unfurled his fingers, the creaking leather was barely audible.

He just couldn't assume this man would be sympathetic, not for Jet's sake. All of their lives could be affected by misplaced trust on Albert's part. He just would not risk their freedom. They were all relying on him. His mind drifted to Hilda saying, "I know you'll get me safe and sound to the West. Then we can live together again. Oh, Albert, I have faith in you."

His eyes jerked up when light applause started. He was grateful he didn't have to endure the rest of the memory. He stood and waited as Dressler shook hands and greeted people. He followed the man out the back of the lecture hall. Albert was careful to make sure no one followed him.

Dressler round a corner, Albert followed and called out, "Herr Doctor!"

The young doctor turned and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, can I help you?"

Albert slipped his ray gun out of his pocket. "You'll be coming with me tonight."

"What? You're a Black Ghost agent? Why are you pointing that at me?" The man's voice was barely a whisper.

"Get a move on." Albert jerked his head towards a nearby door. He walked behind the man, but gave him a few directions to the car were Ivan waited.

* * *

"Very good, my friend. You pick up things quick."

Frances, who was sitting behind the cockpit of the cargo plane, stifled a giggle at Jet's strange scowl. She already knew Jet didn't take compliments very well at all, but she didn't know why. Jet started fiddling around with a knob on the control panel, a distinct air of aggravation surrounded him.

"Well, you're right. Who knows when flying an actual plane can come in handy."

Jean-Paul wasn't put off at Jet's slightly hostile vibe. He flashed Jet a huge smile and smacked him on the left shoulder. "Good job. You know, we should try to find something..."

"Someone is coming. I hear a car," Frances said, shaking Jean-Paul's shoulder. The blond man leaped out of the cockpit and drew the pistol.

"You two stay here. Jet, take off with Frances if it looks like trouble. There should be enough fuel to get you over those hills. You can run for it there."

Jet nodded and grabbed Frances's wrist when she tried to follow. She crouched behind Jet and concentrated. The car parked. She could hear Albert say, "Here we are. Don't give me any more trouble, Doctor."

"It's them, Jet! Come on." She helped Jet out of the cockpit. He slumped against her awkwardly.

* * *

"This..." Albert shoved a middle aged man in through the dormitory door. "... is Doctor Otto Dressler, a Black Ghost agent Gilmore had heard of in passing. Ivan found him by picking Gilmore's brain. He happened to be giving a lecture at the University of Basel. I persuaded him to take a detour before going back home."

Frances stood up from where she sat beside Jet on a cot. "But, Herr Heinrich..."

"He wasn't thrilled to come with me. That's why he looks so put out, but we don't have much choice. I figured I needed to take the risk of bringing him here to help Jet recover anyway." Albert held up his ray gun to the sweaty doctor's head. The man's scowl deepened. Frances caught a slight smile Jet gave to Albert; the German man nodded and lowered his hand.

"How dare you! The Black Ghost is trying to improve humanity and save people from their own stupidity!"

"There is your patient, Herr Doctor. Fix him and I won't have to rattle your teeth," Albert threatened, to Frances's utter shock. The middle-aged scientist walked over to Jet and looked at his eyes.

"What's wrong with him?" Dressler snapped.

"He was shot in the back. He should have been able to withstand it, but it nicked a line," Albert answered.

Frances averted her eyes as Jet took off his shirt. "What is this! Some sort of joke! I'm a biologist... not an electrician. How did he get that way?"

"You should know, your friends at the Black Ghost did that to him. Now, get to work, I'm getting impatient."

"I'll do what I can," the man mumbled. France joined Albert by a window while the man worked.

"What if the Black Ghost come looking for him?"

"He's not due anywhere until tomorrow morning. Ivan will handle him then," Albert said softly. Frances nodded, exhaustion was beginning to overcome her.

* * *

"Done."

Frances jerked awake at the pronouncement and realized, with dismay, that she had fallen asleep on a cot. She sat up and walked over to where Jet was stretching and waving around his right arm.

"Best part is both my lungs work. Thanks, Doc."

"Don't thank me," the man snapped. "I don't understand how the Black Ghost did this or why? It serves no advancement to cut open a healthy body. I was able to repair those muscles with such ease. They were amazing, so advanced."

"It doesn't matter," Albert said. "You need to go back and forget this happened."

Frances moved aside as Ivan approached. He held up his right hand, right eye glowing. "You will go back to your apartment and forget everything over the last five hours. You'll get a good night's sleep and then go on with your travel plans tomorrow."

The man looked dazed, but nodded and walked out of the dormitory. Ivan groaned and tilted towards Frances. She and Albert caught him. His nose bled profusely. She and Albert managed to get him onto a cot; Jean-Paul and Jet joined them, standing around Ivan's inert body.

"We'll need to leave tomorrow. Let's all get some rest," Albert said. He sat on the cot next to Ivan. Jet went and flopped on his cot again, only he looked the happiest Frances had ever seen him. Jean-Paul fell into a cot one down from Jet and fell asleep almost instantly. She walked to the end of the dormitory and lay on a cot apart from them, but she was too restless to get a solid night's sleep.

* * *

"Frances, I need to talk to you a few minutes." She looked over to Albert, who stood in the shadow of the hanger bay. She glanced over again at the window of the cargo plane across the field. Jean-Paul was giving Jet another lesson. She could clearly hear Jean-Paul laughing at Jet's fowl-mouthed tirade on the math behind fuel consumption.

"What is it?"

"It's about your brother; I think you know what I'm going to say."

Frances nodded and joined Albert at a small table covered in small bolts and wrinkled maps. "You're going to point out that he's a liability. That if he goes with us, he could be killed."

"Or even worse. Keep in mind what they did to us. I'm sure these twisted men have other evil ideas they want to implement. I'd rather not see Jean-Paul, or anyone else, become a victim of the Black Ghost. It's obvious to me, now, that we must be very careful who we allow to travel with us, for their sake."

Frances could feel her throat tighten. She took a deep breath and looked at her hands. She could see Albert's gloved hand immediately drift towards her left arm, but he paused before touching her, and flinched back.

"Look," he said, firmly, "I don't want us to have to keep on the move all the time. I think we need to find a quiet place to settle down for a while. After a year or two, when I know it's safe, we can send for Jean-Paul. It won't be forever. Ivan says that the Merchants keep slashing the funding, which is good for us."

Frances sniffled and nodded. "I know you're right. Does this mean you think we need to all stay together?"

Albert nodded, stiff-lipped. Her eyes widened. "Have you told Jet?"

"Not yet. I think he still has his heart set on New York. I think I can persuade him to stay with us."

"How? He's too obstinate."

"After almost getting killed the other night, I think he'll be more reasonable."

"Hey you two!" Jean-Paul called out, Jet trailed behind as they walked into the hanger bay.

"Let's sit down and talk," Albert said.

"I thought you wanted to get off the ground by now."

"Yes, but we need to make somethings clear before we leave," Albert started off.

* * *

The flight to Stresa, Italy took barely half an hour. Jean-Paul let Jet do most of the work, occasionally correcting him. After they landed, Frances looked over to where Ivan was wrapped in blankets beside her, his head on her lap. He was totally unconscious, with very few signs of life. Albert sat next to her, deep in his own thoughts.

After they landed, Jean-Paul and Jet joined them in the hull of cargo plane. "You two must promise me to look after Frances. I don't like this, but you make a lot of sense, Herr Heinrich."

"I'm glad you understand." Albert and Jean-Paul had argued over his coming with them. Eventually, Jean-Paul admitted he was a liability. He agreed to stay in France, if they kept in contact and Frances would visit him by next year.

"I do, but I don't like it. I'll fly this plane back, and then Frances will send me a postcard to Aunt Marie's Calais cottage. Address it to Renee Fonck. I'll assume that new identity." She nodded, unable to speak without crying.

Albert stood up and picked Ivan up with a struggle. "I'll wait outside."

He left, and Frances's sorrow grew heavier. Jean-Paul wouldn't quite look at her; he cleared his throat and thrust his hand out towards Jet. "You need to keep practicing somehow. Good luck with it, Jet."

The New Yorker stared at Jean-Paul's hand, hopped up, and left with a slight nod. He grabbed the suitcase on the way out and dragged it after him. Frances glanced at her brother, who gave a baffled shrug. He leaned over and gave her a fierce hug. "Stay safe. I'll see you by next Christmas. Okay?"

She hugged him back and said, "I love you."

"I love you too, little sister."

He helped her stand up and get out of the plane. A thought hit her suddenly right before he ducked back into the plane. "Wait! Jean-Paul! Your watch!"

She ran up towards the plane, retrieved the gold pocket watch from her sweater, and held it up towards him. He smiled warmly and clasped her hand with the watch. He curled her fingers around the watch and shook his head. "You keep it and give it back to me next year."

She nodded, a surge of joy hit her. "So long as I have to give this back to you, I'll always return."

"I count on it." He ducked into the plane and closed the door. After he took off, Frances followed Albert and Jet down a small dirt road. They remained quiet all the way to the small city.

* * *

Countess Manma Yana bowed, "Yes, Lord Scar. I've carried out your orders. My team is ready."

"Good!" The man beckoned her to follow him down the hallway. She followed, gently playing with the charm bracelet on her wrist. Six charms, one for each type of chessman, dangled from the silver loops.

"I hear my husband won't be back for a while."

"Yes, General Issimo has reassigned him to research and development because of the reduction in funds, however, the sooner you find the missing Double Zero Cyborgs, the sooner you will be reunited with your husband." Scar turned to her, his black cape lapping her ankles. "If your men fail, he won't be back."

Yana pushed her moss green-locks back from her forehead and gave a smaller bow. "I understand the risk, Lord Scar. I will not fail you. The men I've chosen for this task are all capable. The twins are unpredictable, but very aggressive and not afraid of violence. That family man, I chose him as well."

"Ember?"

"Yes, he wants a good place to raise his daughter and to make sure his wife is well taken care of. He's a simpleton, but one of the best snipers on the payroll. I also..."

"I know, that mute oaf! I don't see why you chose him. He's the real simpleton."

She let out a sinister chuckle and nodded. "He is strong and fast, but, more importantly, he is loyal to Ember, and he hasn't resisted any order I've ever given him. Show a beaten dog a little kindness, and it won't bite."

"I can see I was wise in choosing you. You have no heart like other women."

"I gave it away long time ago," she agreed. "Now, with your leave, the five of us will start tracking the errant Double Zero Cyborgs."

"They must be under my control within two months. If not, our plans my be pushed back further. We need to continue the Double Zero project soon."

"It will be done," she turned down a darkened hallway, parting from Scar. A group of scientists passed her. They, Gilmore, Uranus, and Gaia, were in a heated discussion. For a slight moment, Gilmore caught her eye, his eyes grew blank. He shook his head and continued on with his two colleges.

Yana arrived at the hanger bay where her team was assembled. The spiky-haired twins were playing cards, while Ember was watching the redheaded oaf swing a five-year-old girl around by the hands. Ember let out a whistle and took the small girl in his arms.

Yana walked up to the men who now gave her their attention. The small child buried her face against her father's neck and asked, "Are you going now?"

"Yes, sweetheart." He lowered the childed and patted her head. "Go find your mother. She should be in the apartment now."

She nodded and ran out of the hanger bay. Yana controlled her sneer and said, "The Cyborgs have a large lead on us, but we should be able to catch them. We start in Paris and track them."

"How long do we have."

"Two months."

Ember nodded grimly. "Let's hurry."

"Finally, some action," Pollex said.

His twin, Castor, snickered. "I was getting bored, too. This promises to be full of action."

"Go to my personal plane," Yana ordered. Ember and the twins ambled towards her large, silver jet. She turned to see the giant teenager stare at her. "You, too." He nodded and followed her to the plane.

To Be Continued.


	8. Chapter 8

[Sorry this one took so long. I hope it was worth the wait. The rest will be quicker than this; I'm going to really hit it hard this weekend because I want to get to introduce the 2nd generations. Enjoy!]

Chapter Eight:

Frances wiped her arm against her brow and looked around the dusty, rundown room in aggravation. She marched to the front door after adjusting the turquoise headscarf; she took her broom with her, and yanked the front door open. She scanned the rolling, green hills, then she walked around the small farmhouse and scanned the neglected fig tree grove. She easily spotted bright, red hair among the large, lush leaves.

She walked towards the grove, clenching the broom handle tighter. She stopped in front of Jet, who lounged under a fig tree, arm draped across his eyes.

"Is this where you've been all morning?"

He said something in rolling Italian she didn't catch. "What did you say!" she demanded.

"I went to town and ran those errands you wanted done. Even checked the mail," he said in sloppy French.

Her aggravation momentarily quelled. "Jean-Paul?"

"Nothing yet," Jet mumbled. "Don't worry, it's only been three weeks. I'm sure he's been careful." Jet sat up and yawned. He shot a wide leaf a glare. "I even schlepped all those newspapers up here, but Heinrich was still dead asleep. The bum," he said, switching to near flawless German.

Frances grew aggravated all over again. "You're one to talk! I've been waiting on you to fix those windows upstairs," she snapped in French. Jet's face grew vexed.

He waved his hand dismissively, and replied in German, "Just keep the door closed and no one will know."

"You are impossible! That spare room is filthy and moldy. I'm tired of finding birds in there."

"Get Heinrich to do it. I've never fixed anything like that in my life."

"Well it's time you learned. You know, I'm not some den mother to you two men. Everyone has to contribute."

Jet let out a disgruntled snort and hopped to his feet. "Fine... sick... and tired.. of hearing... 'bout it."

They walked back to the farmhouse, both silent. When they reached the front door, Jet turned and asked Frances, "Is Ivan still out?"

"Yes. I'm kind of worried. I thought he would be awake by now."

"Me too." He expression turned from concerned to vexed. "Once he wakes up, you can start picking on him do do chores 'round this place."

Frances ignored him and went on to finish her sweeping as he jogged upstairs. She was very intent on her dusting, but her enhanced hearing wouldn't let her get distracted. She heard the downstairs' bedroom door open and close. She paused and watched Albert walk into the living room.

"Good morning," he said. He walked past her to the stack of newspapers on a small, red-velvet settee. He sat beside them and tore into the first one.

"It's eleven."

"Hun? Oh? I was up too late," Albert explained absently.

"Why do you look at those newspapers all the time. Can't you put them aside for one day? There is so much to be done around here."

He lowered the paper and gave Frances a confused look. He glanced around the dim room as if he didn't recognize it. She crouched in front of him, and gave him her best smile.

"You'll feel better in a clean house."

He nodded and eventually gave her lop-sided grin. "You're right. What do you want me to do?"

A loud crash came from upstairs, along with English, Italian, and German mixed into strange swearing. "Go check on Jet. I think he hurt himself."

He gave a chuckle and hurried upstairs. She glanced down at the American newspaper and deciphered the English. It read, _'Martin Luther King, Jr. was convicted of minor offenses in Albany, Georgia as a result of his attempt to desegregate that city, however other charges will remain pending.' _

As she finished her dusting she realized what Albert was doing. He was trying to find a good time for them to go to America, probably New York, but didn't feel it was safe, now, with the Civil Rights conflicts going on. She knew they had to stay as far away from countries in turmoil, Albert made that abundantly clear. Jet had also made it clear, even though he was starting to love Italy, his passionate heart was still in New York.

Frances went to the kitchen and started slicing a salad for lunch. She knew this would mean she would have to go to America with them, which would make visits with Jean-Paul impossible. She controlled her breathing as the paring knife shook in her hand. She would wait until Albert brought it up. She just couldn't go. She would be firm and insist on staying in Europe; after all, they hadn't seen signs of the Black Ghost at all. Why should they move, unless they had to, was what Frances wondered.

* * *

Countess Yana glanced around the large airplane hanger and leaned on the black walking cane she carried. The light pink crystal on top pulsed under her palm. The twins each had crewmen, the last two living, around the necks with their electric whips. The men didn't live much longer. The twins each flicked their whips and released the men.

"No one knows where that girl's brother went to..." Pollex said.

"...and we've just run out of leads," Castor finished.

There was a faint moan. The three of them turned to see a crewman had survived and was trying to crawl towards a side door. Yana glared, hoisted her walking cane, and pointed the pink crystal topper at the man. Her thumb brushed a small trigger.

Nothing visible to the eye occurred, but the crewman started thrashing, groaning, and foaming at the mouth. He collapsed on the concrete floor, and she released the small trigger of her soundwave weapon.

The three of them walked over to the now dead man; Castor turned him over with his foot, avoiding the blood pouring from his face. She turned to Pollux and said, "I told you to be careful!"

"Sorry, Countess. He seemed dead to me."

Her eyes narrowed as she placed the top of her walking cane to the tip of his nose. Both twins' eyes went wide, sweat beaded on their bows. She withdrew her cane and gave them a sardonic expression. "Make sure next time."

"Yes, ma'am," they both mumbled.

"Countess Yana," Ember called out, walking down a stairway from a plane, an old book in hand. His hand jerked back to the cargo plane, before readjusting his sniper rifle over his left shoulder. "This was the plane 003's brother used, and he did indeed work for this company. Jean-Paul Arnoul. According to the record, this plane was at an abandoned airstrip near Basel, Switzerland. It took a forty-five minute flight from there."

Ember stepped to the concrete floor, walked up to her, and handed her the book. Her chessmen charm-bracelet gave a slight jingle as she opened the dog-eared book. He pointed out, "He left his destination blank. He had no choice but to fill out fuel consumption and some general information."

Ember walked over to a tattered map tacked to the corrugated tin wall. She walked-up behind him while he studied it, tracing his finger in a concentric circle around Basel. "I think we can find the city he went to."

"Good," she said. He yanked the map down as the twins joined them.

She turned towards the redheaded oaf. He was standing in the middle of a bunch of smashed crates. "You! Destroy this place totally!"

"No! We don't have time for that. We have to find them within a week and there are dozens of towns it could be," Ember snapped. She turned and scowled at him. She was about to castigate the man, but she admitted he was right.

"Twins, Oaf, get a car ready for us to travel. Be discrete."

"Yes, ma'am," the twins answered, running off with the oaf in tow.

She whirled on the sharpshooter and gave him a frosty smile. "Anxious to get back to your precious family, Ember?"

He gave her a nasty look before lighting a cigarette. "Same as you, Yana."

She controlled her fury and nodded. "Don't ever countermand one of my orders again, Ember."

He turned on his heels and walked after the rest of the group. Yana took several deep breaths before joining them. She would have to find those errant Double Zero Cyborgs quicker, or else Ember would continue to be a problem.

* * *

"Man, you two are so quiet. What's going on?" Jet asked after lighting candles for the small dinner table. "Next time, we squat at a house with electricity."

Frances shot him a tense look, her lips were clenched together as she set a large pot of stew on the table. Albert sat at the table, put his elbows on the table, and rested his chin on his clasped hands. His gaze was a vacant contrast to Frances's hostile expression.

Jet shook his head and sat to Albert's left; Frances sat across from him. She ladled stew in a bowl and handed it to Jet silently. "So what'd I do now? Thought you'd be happy that window is fixed."

"I'm fine," she snapped, handing Albert his stew bowl.

"Whatever," he snapped back and started to eat.

They ate in silence; only a few bird songs punctuated their dinner. Jet wanted to leave; after all, he never ate too many meals with his parents. Now, it was as if he were trapped with these two in some twisted family unit. The more he glanced at them, the more his resentment grew for the Black Ghost.

"How much longer you plan on keepin' us here, Heinrich? I thought you said we could move to New York soon?"

The man's bright blue eyes, went from apathy to thoughtful. "Not yet, and I said I would look and see when it was most likely. It wouldn't be a good idea now. There is a lot of civil unrest happening. Some of the people who are trying to oppress others could be agents of the Black Ghost. I just don't know. This Martin Luther King fellow is trying to get equal rights for everyone in America, but he was arrested recently. Why? It's just too sinister."

"Yeah, I heard of him," Jet mumbled. He hadn't given too much attention to the Civil Rights moment; after all, it was mostly in states like Georgia and Alabama, but it must be getting more intense since the Black Ghost had altered him. Jet brightened up and slapped his hands on the rough, wooden table. "Don't you think the Black Ghost couldn't follow us through a bunch of chaos? We could hide out better if there was a lot of confusion and everyone is fighting. Attention won't be too focused. We could really throw them off in New York. Come on..."

France bolted out of her chair, snatched her bowl up, and marched over to the wash basin. He watched her shoulders stoop and shake slightly; her back was to them. Jet glanced over at Albert, but he looked just as confused.

Jet sat back and let Albert stand and walk over to Frances. "What's wrong, Frances? Are you okay?"

She turned around, Jet felt a spike of guilt for an unknown reason. He found himself getting irritable with her. She wiped her cheeks off and and glared up at Albert, who looked baffled.

"When were you going to tell me you were going to move us to America?"

"It's nothing to worry about. It wouldn't be soon. I'm keeping our options open."

"So you figured to leave Europe soon? Away from the only family I have? It's not fair!" She blurted out in French almost too fast for Jet to understand. "Don't I have a say-so in where we go?"

"Yes, of course." Albert looked positively irritated, he leaned on the food preparation table with crossed arms. "I didn't mean to exclude you. I see you're upset. I thought you wouldn't want to be bothered with the details."

Even Jet knew that was the wrong thing to say to a crying dame. He ducked his head and fought the smile coming across his face. For once she was going to yell at Albert, not him. Sure enough, her face turned beet-red, but she turned back to the washbasin.

"From now on, I will be included in all your plans and ideas... Monsieur Heinrich. I'm not a child. I was about to embark on a career and manage my own affairs in Paris. Just because you're older... and a man... doesn't give you any more say so over our destinies." Her voice was so calm and eerie Jet shivered; he had never once seen her quite like this. It made him more grateful Albert was her target and not him.

Jet could see Albert's face flush as well in the flickering candlelight. Frances then turned to Albert, shoulders squared. "After everything all of us have been through, I won't let you take away even more of my freedom and dignity."

Albert's expression grew shamefaced. He gradually nodded, shoulders slumping. "I'm very sorry. I didn't give you the respect I should have. You, Jet, and Ivan seem so young to me sometimes... What we have been through has been a living nightmare. My good intentions have made it worse."

Frances nodded, looking on the verge of tears, yet again. Jet opened his mouth to point out the possibility of moving to New York hadn't been settled. Frances gasped and turned her head to the staircase. Jet looked over to see what she had picked up.

He was just as shocked to see Ivan floating downstairs, a blue haze surrounding him. Ivan's hair was tousled, and his eyes still had dark circles under them. His body moved to the table, a chair skidded across the floor, he drifted into the seat. A bowl of stew seemed to fix itself and slide in front of Ivan.

"So what have I missed?" he asked.

* * *

"...and I'm just so glad you're awake again," Frances gushed, clutching Ivan's left forearm, giving it a slight shake. He gave her a weak smile and continued to eat the stew with a shaky, overhanded grip on his spoon.

She felt a wave of relief while Albert had explained their situation over the last three weeks. Now that he was finished, she was anxious over Ivan's extended sleep. She asked, "So why did you sleep so long? Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine. I overtaxed myself. I need to be more judicious with my abilities. From time to time, I'll fall into these deep sleeps. Don't concern yourself too much with my cycles. It's a fundamental restraint Dr. Gamo built into my head. It was for greater control over me."

"That's so horrible. It just goes to show the cruelty of the Black Ghost," she said, patting his arm, squeezing it slightly, and letting him go. She turned her head to Albert and said, "We must keep him away from those beasts."

"We will." He gave a nod and finished his stew.

"Hey! Just wait a minute! You didn't answer my question! Are we ever going to get to New York or not! I'm sick of you dancing around the issue, Heinrich."

"Oh why are you so keen on uprooting us when we're in a nice, safe place!" Frances demanded before Albert could answer. All eyes were now on the glaring redhead.

"Oh wait a minute, sister! You had your chance at being home. Not once did I give you shit over being in Paris. It wasn't my fault it didn't work out!"

"Well if they showed up in Paris, don't you think they can track you down in New York? It's stupid! We need to stay in a city none of us has been in before, like this one. It's so small, the Black Ghost could never find us!"

"And like I said..." Jet bolted out of his chair, leaning over towards Frances, "...they won't find us there! I know what I'm doing."

She jumped to her feet and met his eyes. "Why go there when you don't even want to see your parents! I have a brother here! You don't have..." Frances stopped what she was about to say, but it was too late. Jet's fervid expression told her he understood, and what she implied had wounded him deep. "Oh, Jet, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that."

"I had friends there. Loyal friends who wouldn't sell me out to the Black Ghost."

Frances felt her stomach roil. Albert stood up and put a hand on Jet's trembling shoulder; the New Yorker flinched away and glared at Albert. "So what's it going to be? Here or New York?"

"We stay here for now. I made you a promise, and I intend on keeping it. I will get you back to New York," Albert said solemnly. Jet swirled around and marched towards the door.

"Screw both of you," he shouted, before running out of the side kitchen door. Frances ran to the door and watched him run a few steps towards the grove, leap in the air, and fly upwards and to the north.

"Jet! Come back! I'm so sorry!" Frances shouted to the dark sky.

"Let him go burn off steam," Albert said.

"But..."

_:I'm keeping track of him, Frances,:_ Ivan projected in her head.

"I only said what I did to make him realize he should stay here. There is nothing worth risking his life over. Doesn't he realize that?"

_ :I shouldn't tell you both this, but it will help you realize why he has such a drive to get back to New York. Right before the Black Ghost kidnapped him, he was in a street fight with another person. He ended up stabbing the other teenager to death. He really wants to get back there so he can make sure they didn't suffer any retaliation for his bad action, whether from the police or the rival gang. He cares a great deal about his gang. He still sees them as his family.:_

"So it's true," Frances murmured, as she sank down into her chair. She shook her head and tried processing it. Something, a faint hum Frances couldn't decipher, was at the back of her consciousness. She looked over to Ivan, his head was cocked.

_:We need to get our protective uniforms on and our ray guns.:_

* * *

"Looky, looky. Found you," Ember murmured as he lowered his binoculars.

Yana smoothed down the front of her purple dress and nodded. A slight whine filled the air and a bright streak flew over their heads. The five of them ducked under a fig tree until the night sky was dark again.

"Most certainly, that is them. It looks like the flier is gone. We'll need to be careful when we approach. All of you stand behind me," Yana ordered, hoisting her walking cane. "This will give you a nice headache, my dear."

Yana pointed the topper of the walking cane at the dilapidated farmhouse. The pink crystal quivered.

* * *

Frances let out a sudden scream as a piercing noise assaulted her ears. She covered her ears and made her way downstairs from her bedroom. Her eyes blurred with tears, but she could still see Albert and Ivan standing in their living room in their green uniforms.

She could see Albert's mouth move, but couldn't hear the words. She managed to say, "They are coming, but... can't make out anything about them..."

Albert nodded, snuffed the candles out, and drew his ray gun. Suddenly, it was silent. Frances stood up, a headache lapped at her. She fought her anxiety as Albert waved them towards a side door. Albert went to open the kitchen door. A loud crash in the living room, and a sudden flare of light and heat stopped them.

Albert slammed the door open, but fell backwards with a stifled gasp. Frances shouted, "Heinrick!" and knelt beside him, he was unconscious.

A white line streaked towards Frances's face. Her arm jerked up, but a bluish haze deflected it. She was startled to see two young men with spiky hair. Both were identical, and both carried whips with glowing white lashes.

"Hello, what do we have here?" one of them asked, a leer on his face.

"Looks like some escapees," the other said, with the same leer.

"Let's help them find their way home," the first one answered.

To Be Continued.


	9. Chapter 9

[Special Note: I ran into a situation where I had to use one fowl word; when you read the conversation, I think you'll see why. I apologize because I know this is rated 'T.' I also hope you can wade through my American 60s slang I threw in. I used /fashion/slang dot htm and /slang dot html as my sources. I'll tone down the slang in the future, but I just hear Jet talking like this. Okay, enjoy!]

Chapter Nine:

Jet felt the cool, early March air rush through his hair; he poured on more speed. His skin started to chill down. He fought to take in more air, but his lungs were automated with a regulator as he flew. It only reminded him he was tied down, not free. Whether it was to Black Ghost or other cyborgs, his life was no longer his own.

He fought, over-road his automation, took in a large gulp of air and screamed with all his might. Jet rapidly plunged to the ground, tumbled and rolled, and landed on his back. He stared at the bright stars as he let his body struggle to even his breath. Amazement at the spectacular night sky quelled his anger. He had never seen anything like this in New York.

He clenched his eyes shut, not believing the tears starting. He rubbed at them furiously. He hadn't cried since he was five and his father had burnt him with a cigar while his mother drifted in and out of a drunken stupor. He had felt trapped, then, and rebelled in every way he could. Now, something he couldn't fathom, the Black Ghost, had ripped his flesh from him and was hunting him, trapping him all the same.

At least with his gang, he could understand and identify the other boys. They all had bad homes and were always up for fun. These people he was running with, he just couldn't understand their lives. They were too different from him, even though they had all been attacked by the Black Ghost. Albert, Frances, and Ivan were strangers he just couldn't trust; also, there was no way to find out if his gang, the few people he trusteed, were safe. It was what drove him towards New York.

_:Jet, get back here quick! We're being attacked.: _

"What? Ivan! What's going on?" Jet shouted to the sky, leaping to his feet.

_:Hurry! Heinrick is hurt!:_

Jet jumped to the sky and took off at full speed towards home... their month-long home. The only roots he knew beyond America were his Italian grandparents. He had grown to love life in Italy; it took away some of his homesickness. Now, he couldn't bear the thought of being ripped away from this new home and taken back to the Black Ghost; the thought froze his blood cold, he stopped in midair.

What if he went charging in and got caught, along with the others? No, he couldn't live with himself, imagining Frances or Ivan being tortured any more than they were. They were just so innocent, unlike him. And Albert, Jet could feel it in his bones, that man was under tremendous grief he refused to show. There was something Jet could identify with Albert in the few glimpses he had. He knew the man couldn't... no, wouldn't... survive going back to the Black Ghost.

He fired his boosters and headed back to the farmhouse. He wouldn't let anyone suffer what he had, and he would never let the people he knew experience that again. He wouldn't let Black Ghost have their way. Ivan was right, they needed to be stopped.

"I'm coming!" he shouted into the night air, now subconsciously able to manipulate his lungs at his will.

* * *

Ivan watched Frances draw her ray gun and aim at the twins standing in the kitchen. She sat on her rump and scootched back slightly as they walked forward, leering down at her. Ivan was about to lash out and push the twins out of the door; something was wrong. His chest grew tight and mouth was dry.

His emotions swung wildly. He clutched his head as a wave of nausea hit. He shut his eyes and fought to steady this sudden onslaught of intense, vivid emotions; they were driving him into confusion. Things he had never felt before, lust, mixed with the familiar, fear. Many different emotions claimed his attention, a new one every half a second, blinding him to the point he couldn't summon his other abilities.

"You won't take us back!" Frances's shout was at the edge of Ivan's awareness. He fought to open his eyes and struggled to move.

The twins chuckled and flicked their whips out: one in the right hand, the other held his in the left. She tugged down the pleated skirt of her dark green, protective uniform because their eyes roved over her legs. She moved next to Albert, rose to her knees, and brought her ray gun to bear.

"Leave now! I'll shoot if you don't!"

They cackled and flicked their whips. "Drop the gun, 003, and we won't have to be hard on you."

"After all, we just need to take your body back..."

"... they didn't say in what state," the twins taunted.

"You will not touch her," Ivan said through gritted teeth. They threw back their heads and laughed.

"Oh, you're so scary..."

"...the famous 001. What're you waiting for?"

"Not so tough, are you?" The twins taunted, gently flicking their electrified lashes back and forth.

The desire to in inflict physical pain on another, and take carnal pleasure in it, hit him hard. It made him sick to his stomach to think such perversion lingered in his head. Anger, pain, lust, fear, joy, hate... It all flickered through his head at a speed almost too fast to comprehend.

"Say goodnight!" the twin on the right shouted and struck at Ivan. A flash from Frances's ray gun knocked the whip away before it connected with Ivan's head. He trembled, looking at Frances's intense eyes, her ray gun was steady.

"You bitch!" the one on the left shouted and swung his whip at her. It connected with Frances's arms, just as her second blast barely missed the man's spiky hair. She gave a strangled gasp and collapsed on the wooden floor. The twins chuckled as the one on the right rearmed his self.

Albert groaned, getting Ivan's attention. A man with a rifle came through the doorway; he put his booted foot on Albert's neck and pointed the rifle at his aquiline nose. "Don't move a muscle, 004."

Albert froze, keeping his palms upturned; however, Ivan didn't miss the hateful glare in Albert's clear, blue eyes. A wave of insatiable rage filled Ivan. That's when a dire realization hit him, he was experiencing a new ability: empathy. That's why he couldn't wake up sooner.

His brain was expanding in leaps, now that he was in a teenager's body, growing so fast he was unprepared. Fyoder Gamo thought this would happen to his son, but not at this rapid rate. The control wasn't there; his emotions were mixed and confused with everyone else's.

Ivan felt himself being shoved to the ground by one of the twins. He closed his eyes and forced his mind to see if he could send another message to Jet. No use, but he did feel something far off, coming in clearer by the second: aggression and determination.

A woman with mossy hair and a walking cane stepped in the kitchen, followed by a giant, baby-faced teenager. The giant stooped and picked up Frances, while one of twins knelt on Ivan's chest. The whip dangled in front of Ivan's eyes, but jerked away. A blur of red, yellow, and gray flashed. Ivan jerked upright and saw Jet tumbling with the twin who had him pinned.

They came to rest with Jet on top. He jerked the twin up and punched him so hard he fell unconscious. Jet jumped up, but scooped Frances's ray gun on his way to his feet. He aimed it towards the other twin who was charging him with a primal yell. Jet fired and laid the other twin low.

The rifle man brought his weapon to bear towards Jet. Albert's fist flashed upwards and landed in the man's gut. The rifle man doubled over, and Albert yanked the gun away. They struggled, but Albert easily shoved the man off balance and got to his feet. He turned the rifle on its owner.

Ivan caught the mossy haired woman out of the corner of his eye. He fought through the emotional battering and eked enough capital energy to mentally shatter the crystal on top of the walking cane; he wasn't sure what it was, but knew it was dangerous. His nose burned horribly as blood trickled to his lips, but he was satisfied to feel her sudden wave of dismay and then ire.

Jet turned to the giant teenager and gave him a smug, lop-sided smile. "Okay, put her down, and we won't beat the snot out of you."

The giant laid Frances down. Ivan rushed to her side and gave her a vigorous shake. She moaned, shook her head, and sat up. Jet walked over, keeping Frances's ray gun trained on the giant, and helped Frances to her feet with Ivan.

"Okay, Frannie?"

"I'm fine, Jet."

"Good, keep this on big boy. I'll be back." Jet handed Frances her ray gun and raced away. Ivan smiled through the extreme physical pain, everyone's pain, washing over him; every bruise, every cut throbbed through his brain.

He knew what Jet was doing. He wasn't surprised when Jet showed up a few minutes later dressed in his dark green, protective uniform, ray gun drawn.

Jet chuckled and said, "I ain't taking a risk like last time... gettin' shot was no fun." He hoisted his ray gun up and sneered at the woman, "So are you Black Ghost stooges or what?"

Ivan caught the faint sound of jingling; he saw the woman playing with a silver charm bracelet on her right wrist. Her devious grin betrayed her.

"Jet, watch out," Ivan called out. His eyes grew wide when she snapped off a charm. Before she had a chance to throw it, Ivan's adrenaline kicked in. He engulfed his fellow cyborgs in his consciousness and drew them with him as he warped space around him. All he could manage was a short jump, and nothing of accuracy. He was hoping to place them next to a car, but he opened his eyes to see the four of them landed in the middle of the fig tree grove.

"Run!" He shouted, and they jogged away from the farmhouse. A loud explosion made them all jerk and swirl around; their farmhouse was engulfed in a huge bright fire, making the night sky blacker. Waves of conflicting emotions invaded Ivan, pressing into him so hard. He clutched his head, and a scream was forced from his dry throat. Blackness engulfed him as he drifted towards Frances.

* * *

"So now what?" Jet asked, as he leaned against a grape arbor. He adjusted Ivan's heavy frame in his arms and looked over to Albert. The German was leaned over, hands on his knees, panting hard. He shook his head.

"What if they're still chasing us?" Frances asked.

"Hold it. We have to get away from here," Jet said, kneeling down and laying Ivan on the ground. He jumped up and looked at Albert. "We're in the middle of the Farina's farm. The old man has a beater truck that looks like it came from the bone yard. Wait here, and I'll go get it."

He jogged off to the barn, surprised Albert or Frances didn't protest. Minutes later he crept into the dilapidated Farina barn and shoved the creaky wood door aside. He snagged a screwdriver off the workbench to his left and quickly hopped into the rickety, blue truck. It took him a moment to figure out the difference in a right seated vehicle from the left. It took no time for him to hot-wire the the truck and drive it back to his fellow cyborgs.

He popped his head out of the window and smirked at France and Albert's surprised expressions. Albert picked up Ivan and tucked him up in the bed of the truck, wrapping him in canvas. He yanked open the passenger door and helped Frances onto the bench seat. Albert slid in and slammed the door.

Albert glared at Jet and asked, "Have you ever worked an honest day in your life?"

"Nope," Jet said, pushing the accelerator to the floor.

* * *

Three hours later they had pulled into Genoa. It was evening, but it was easy enough for Jet to raid clotheslines and find themselves some plain, worn linen shirts and pants. He brought a set of clothes for Albert and Ivan; he also brought a rugged blouse and burgundy skirt for Frances.

She shoved their uniforms and ray guns into a burlap sack from the truck; her eyes followed Jet and Albert to the docks. They had been watching out while she changed clothes. Her mind was numb as she checked Jean-Paul's watch: one in the morning. She snapped it shut. Ivan sat up suddenly from the bed of the truck; that made her flinch. Albert and Jet came running back when they heard her cry out joyfully.

Frances threw her arms around Ivan and held him close, rocking him slightly. "I thought you'd be asleep for another three weeks!"

"No, Frances. I... I just overloaded, I didn't waste all my capital energy. Where are we?"

"Genoa," Jet answered.

"Excellent. We can sail to anywhere. Mr. Heinrich, do you have a suggestion?"

"I'll check where the ships are sailing."

Frances laid her hand on his exposed metallic, right hand. "But you can't."

Albert clenched his hand and glowered at it; Frances felt a wave of pity. Ivan suddenly moaned and doubled over.

"I'll go," Jet said, placing his hand on top of theirs and gripping them tightly. "Stay put. I speak the best Italian anyway."

He jogged off into the dark, misty night. All she could do was sit beside Albert in the cab of the truck, but Ivan paced in front. The German man rolled down the window and lit a cigarette from a an old crumpled pack on the dashboard.

"He has a good heart," Albert said with a subtle, yet somber, smile. She nodded.

"He'll be back, just like he was earlier," Frances confirmed with a matching smile. She patted his fleshy, left hand again and took a deep breath. "You know, he is trustworthy."

"I wished he trusted himself."

They were silent for several long minutes. Finally, he showed up and nearly ran into Ivan. Albert and Frances slid out of the truck and waited for Jet to catch his breath. He was smiling.

Jet flung his hand towards the dark. Frances could see outlines of large ships in the night. "I found two. One is this real choice cruise ship going strait to the Big Apple. Here..." He handed over a fist full of lire to Frances. "Kiped us some bread while I was at it."

"Now say what you really meant," she said, looking at the money. She hated when Jet got excited, his American slang grew convoluted to the point she couldn't fathom a guess at what he meant.

He scowled, she'd castigated him for it before. "I... stole... money," he said in exaggerated, slow French. This irritated her, but she wasn't rising to bait like she had many times before.

"You said two," Albert interrupted. Jet walked over to Albert, pulled a pair of thick, utility gloves from under his shirt, and handed them over. The German nodded and tugged them on; it was better than having his hand exposed.

"The other is a cargo ship headed towards Australia."

"Good. That's the one we take."

"Climb it, Tarzan! I ain't getting on that stinkin' cargo ship!"

Frances could see Albert's jaw tighten under the street light beside the truck. He and Jet were staring each other down. Ivan started whimpering and raking his fingers across his face.

"Stop it and help him!" Frances shouted, helping Ivan sit beside the parked truck. The two rushed over and knelt in front of him. His frantic clawing had stopped, but Frances still held his wrists. Ivan threw back his head and started giggling uncontrollably.

"Kid, stop freaking out. You'll bring the cops around," Jet said, looking over his shoulder. Eventually, Ivan reasserted control and took several deep breaths, but Frances could tell it took a great effort.

"What's wrong, Ivan?" she asked.

"It seems my abilities are expanding, now that I'm in a body that can withstand more stress than an infant. I'm starting to experience all the emotions around me. They've been flooding my head since the fight. I can't control them, and I can't tell them from my own. It feels as if I have millions of people shouting inside my head all the time. It feels... so... horrible... and so good... all at the same time. People's thoughts... are just... so pale next to emotions. I can't read minds any more."

"Aw crap! Now what?" Jet asked. "How are we going to fix him?"

"We'll it's settled now. We go to Australia and then call Kuzumi to fly down and help him," Albert answered.

"What? Wait a minute. None of us has been to Australia. It's got a bunch of strange animals, that's all I know. Why not go someplace one of us knows so we don't get trapped in a strange surrounding. Those last jokers almost had us."

"Yes, but Japan is so close to Australia. It'll be easier."

"And closer to the Black Ghost base we just came from," Frances reminded Albert. "If we have to, I think we'd be safer in New York. A rich doctor like Kuzumi could afford to fly to New York and meet us there to help Ivan. I agree now..." Frances felt her face burn hot, and her stomach plunged. She admitted, "Europe is not safe for us right now."

Jet nodded and smirked. "Fuckin' A. Now you're talkin'."

She shook her head and frowned at him. "You need to see if you're wanted by the police. If you are, we can't go."

"What?" Jet paled and then looked over to Ivan.

"You finked me out?" Jet's outrage was visible to Frances, his shoulder trembled as he clenched his white-knuckled fists tighter.

"You left me no choice. Besides, they have a right to know. Why don't you tell your side," Ivan replied, seeming in control.

"Fine. This other gang comes strolling on our turf. They knew better. We told them to cut out, but they didn't. One of them steps up to us, and so I obliged. It was just fists. At least that's what I thought until he pulls a blade on me. I grab mine and we fight. I got a lucky shot to his gut. I didn't mean to kill him, I swear, I didn't. My gang and I scatter because the cops were coming. I was scared to death, so when those Black Ghost guys came... well. I was desperate. They said they were just going to give me a ride away from the mess. I felt funny about it, but didn't want the cops to haul my ass off to jail. There! Happy now?"

Albert shook his head. "No, I'm not happy. You should have told us this sooner. Going back to New York could be more dangerous, but you neglected to tell us. The police are all potential Black Ghost agents. You can't have your own agendas."

Jet's head whipped around to Albert. Frances cut off his angry response, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Jet, this could have been solved very easily. Go call one of your gang members and see what's going on."

"Phone them? I've thought of that, but... I'm afraid they'll think I finked them out to the cops because I disappeared. They're going to be hacked off at me."

"Just call them. Come one," Frances said. She helped Ivan to his feet. She lead the way to a small building that looked like a rundown office for a shipping company. She looked through the windows and couldn't pick up any signs of alarm devices. She couldn't hear any odd hums or clicks either. It was all dark, closed for the evening. "I'm sure breaking into that door should be no problem."

"Hey! What do you think I am? I don't burglarize places!"

Albert cleared his throat. They looked over to where he pointed to a partially opened window. Jet opened the window further and pulled himself in. "Could have fooled me," Albert murmured.

Normally, Frances would have let Jet have his privacy, but her curiosity got the best of her. She tuned her hearing towards him, while keeping her sharp vision on the dock. Jet got the overseas operator and asked to be connected to a guy named Mario Conti. The dial tone buzzed in Frances's ear; it seem forever before someone picked up and said, 'hello.'

"Hey, Grandma Conti, I need to speak to Mark. Is he around?"

"What?" she asked in Italian.

Jet then launched into a brief Italian rant. The elderly lady on the other end, seemed confused, but agreeable. Finally, a boy's voice asked, "Hey, who is this?"

A long pause and then, "It's me, Jet."

Another pause, crackle from the overseas connection. "Where the hell have you been?" The voice was harsh, angry.

"Don't get frosted. Something happened that night. I couldn't meet everyone."

"You candyass! Did you go to the cops to save your own skin? Is that what happened?"

"No, man! I wouldn't do that. I can't tell you what happened except I was kidnapped."

"Kidnapped? You're so full of crap! All I know is after you flaked out, five us ran into real trouble. Sal, Tommy, and Jake all wound up dead. Looked like they got jumped, real bad. All thanks to that Puerto Rican kid you knifed. Not only that, but Paul and Gino got picked by the cops, but they didn't rat fink you out. They almost got charged with the guy you knifed, but they pleaded down to some other stuff. You know, the stuff they did to that dame down the street. Now their doing three to five on Rikers."

"What? Paul and Gino were idiots for touching that girl. I told them they were going to get it." Long pause. "Look. I'm so sorry. I didn't want Sal, Tommy, and Jake to get hurt 'cause of me. It was the Puerto Ricans?"

"They say 'no.' Lots of them were looking for dames at a drive-in south of here. The cops busted a lot of them for some small traffic stuff. But who else would have killed our guys? They were all shot in the back of the head. It looked like someone was pealing the skin right off of them first. Vicious M Effers. All I know... It should have been you."

Frances shivered at the cool, harsh declaration. Her mind went to the Black Ghost. Obviously, they had found Jet's gang. "Listen to me," Jet babbled. "All of you have got to lay low. Don't go out. Stay in and don't talk to anyone. Just say you don't know me."

"We are, you idiot! You know, when you show your ugly face around here, we're going to stomp it into the ground. We're going to jump your ass and give you a taste of what you dished to that Puerto Rican... and then throw you in the East River. You're dead to us!"

"Drop dead twice!" Jet shouted.

"What, and look like you?" came the cool response.

There was a loud slam. Minutes stretched on. Finally, Jet slid back out of the office. His face utterly somber. "You know, Australia might not be so bad. At least, Kuzumi is close by."

Frances tried to lay her hand on Jet's shoulder, but he shrugged it off. He jammed his hands in his pockets and jerked his head towards the docks. "Come on. Let's get a move on." Frances caught up with him, leaving Albert and Ivan behind. "I know what you're going to say, Frannie. Sorry about the chop to Natalie earlier."

"I'm sorry, your friends are as rotten as mine was," she said. He smirked at her, threw his arm over her shoulders, and shook his head.

"Hey, at least we all still have each other." She snickered and looked to Jet's other side to see Albert and Ivan had caught up. Jet threw his other arm around Albert's shoulders. "So what's in Australia anyway?"

"A tall cold beer, I hope," Albert said, giving his own smirk to Jet. "Hey, Ivan are you..."

"I'll be fine, if I can avoid large crowds for now. I can find some control."

"Good. The cargo ship sounds like it has promise," Albert said. Frances glanced over her shoulder to see Ivan trailing behind, a dower expression darkened his face.

* * *

Yana knelt in font of Scar's throne, Ember on her right, the other three behind her. They were all still bandaged up from her attempt to stun the cyborgs.

"This was a horrible failure. You have no idea where they went?"

"No, my lord. They were stronger than I anticipated. The flier, 002, took us by surprise. I was expecting trouble from 001, but he seemed unable to function."

"Fool! They were built for combat! What were you thinking! Failure is not tolerated."

"Wait, my lord," Ember spoke up. "Countess Yana and the rest of us have faced them now. Now we are more prepared. I request to let us have one more chance."

Yana glared at Ember. How dare he presume to beg for her in front of Scar? She composed herself, rose, and stepped forward. After all, chasing the Double Zero Cyborgs was now personal for her; competition was a thrill to her, but losing was always unacceptable. She supposed it was now personal to Ember, having his weapon shamefully stripped from him. The twins as well; she knew they mumbled about making 003 pay all the way back to Island X. She couldn't tell about the oaf, but his opinion was irrelevant to her.

"I know I can bring them back," she said, keeping her chin high, shoulders squared.

"It's too late! Funding has been slashed by the Merchants of Death!" Scar pounded his fist on the arm of his throne; Yana was careful not to flinch, cowardliness would sign her death warrant. "However, because I have no other options, I will charge you five with tracking them. Do not confront them... yet..."

"Thank you, my lord. We will not fail," Yana said. She turned and left, her men followed in her wake.

To be continued.


	10. Chapter 10

[Okay, sea captain is actually a 'Vehicle Voltron' character. I just pictured him in my head. I also discovered, with some dismay, I've been spelling Kozumi's name wrong. My apologizes. This chapter took an unexpected twist, but it seemed to fall into place. I hope you like it.]

Chapter 10:

"This is all I have. Take it or leave it," the Australian cargo ship captain said, jerking his head to the one, wide open space. The room was totally empty, no windows, but it did have a small bathroom off to the side. "Also, no walking around on deck during the day and such. I'm no fool. A fist full cash and no papers tells me the four of you could be trouble."

"You shouldn't see us much, Captain Cliff," Albert assured the man. "So we're leaving soon?"

"A few hours. Good."

"I'll be back after we've set sail. Storage is in the next compartment. You could find some roll-away beds and blankets there." Captain Cliff turned and left up the small metallic stairway. Albert and Jet went to the storage area and came out with beds, blankets, and some pillows. All Frances found herself doing was staring at them.

She followed them into the large cabin and looked around. Even on the Japanese fishing boat, she did have some privacy in a tiny, separate side-room from the male cyborgs. Here, there was none. She suddenly felt awkward. Heat rose to her face as she watched Jet and Albert struggle to get one of the beds unfurled.

It sprang open, sending Albert sprawling on his back-side; Jet doubled over in laughter. Albert, for the first time she had ever heard, started laughing. This made Jet laugh even harder; even Ivan paused from moving a crate through the air to snicker.

"Stop it!" Frances snapped. The three males paused abruptly and looked at her, all baffled. Even Ivan looked lost. "This is no joke. Here we are, stuck again, months at a time."

They stared at her. There was something she needed and wanted to say, but it was so awkward, and she couldn't even straighten out her own thoughts. "Awe come on, Frannie, don't come down on us, now. We were fine a few minutes ago. What's wrong, now?"

She took a few deep breaths and wouldn't meet their eyes. "I don't know, exactly. I think... maybe..." She struggled for the most delicate way to phrase her concern. "I'm actually a very modest girl. Jean-Paul raised me to be mindful of situations. I just don't know how else to say it."

Jet's bafflement remained, but Albert, no doubt from having been married before, deciphered Frances's meaning. She was relieved to see he had the good sense to get a chagrined expression. "Sorry, Arnoul. I guess, sometimes, because of the situation we're in, I forget that girls need their space, sometimes. Jet, grab that big blanket."

They sectioned off a corner of the room. She was amazed Jet didn't make a wise crack; she was so happy he didn't; it would have mortified her. Jet went on helping Albert with the beds as if her request was nothing out of the ordinary.

Ivan, meanwhile, rolled the unfurled beds around with his telekinesis as the other two got them unhooked. France shook off her daze and started making up the beds with blankets and renewed gratitude at their commonsense.

Soon after, Jet and Albert collapsed on a pair of beds at the opposite side of the room from her section. Ivan sat on his bed, in between them and Frances's section, with a tattered deck of cards he had gotten from the storage room. He started laying out solitary, but paused to say, "I'm fine, Frances. There are no intense emotions right now."

She nodded and went to her bed. She collapsed, herself, but sleep was elusive, in spite of her physical exhaustion. There was sorrow at leaving Europe. She had dreamed of world travel as a ballerina, not as a fugitive. That dream seemed so distant, but she wasn't willing to let it go. Some way, she'd dance again and be on stage. She didn't doubt this was her destiny.

Eventually, she drifted off, dreaming of red ballet shoes on her feet as she danced across in the Parisian streets.

* * *

"I sense your presence," Ivan said. Albert pushed his surprise down and stepped out of the dusk shadows. The ocean stretched before them, glistening in gold, vermilion, azure. They leaned against the railing in silences for several minutes; only the steady hum of the engines and crashing waves were in Albert's awareness.

He took a deep breath when he realized Ivan was going to be obstinate. "You know, Frances is worried about you. You've avoided us for the last two weeks, and haven't slept any."

"Being around Frances and Jet hurts too much," Ivan answered, not looking at Albert. "They experience so many emotions and moods."

"And me?"

"You still experience bouts of depression. It drags me into places I can't go right now." Albert frowned at Ivan's blunt tone. Ivan looked up at him with a subtle smile. "But, you are starting to heal."

"Nice to know," he mumbled. "Ivan, you can't cut yourself off from us. You need to learn how to control this new power."

"You are afraid I'll slip into despair and want to go back to the Black Ghost."

"It's what we're afraid of."

"I was trapped as an infant for many, many years. I'm so much older than you, in ways, but my parents kept me from interacting with people. When it comes to people, it's very complicated for me."

"I know, but we'll work it out. You don't have to take it all on your shoulders. You've been trying to take most of the responsibility for our escape. You need to know your limits. Your parents..."

"Don't call them that!" Ivan looked infuriated. Albert nodded in agreement, remaining calm.

"The Gamos could use that, get you weak, and take you back. You can't wear yourself out. Learn to rely on us."

"I will. I promise, but I do have to tell you something. You must promise me to not tell Jet or Frances."

Albert figured it was more important to know what was on Ivan's mind, than to ensure everyone was aware of each other's agendas. He could see earnestness in Ivan's mismatched eyes, and he knew Ivan would keep his secret if he sensed hypocrisy within Albert. "I won't tell the other two, even though I don't agree with it."

"When I meet Kozumi, I'm going to ask him to remove my right hemisphere, the prefrontal cortex. At least that's the part Dr. Gamo indicated processed emotions; he discovered this right after my first surgery. His research is very advanced and reliable, also monstrous. Once it's gone, I should be free to use the rest of my abilities without interference."

Albert's brow furrowed. "That would mean you couldn't feel anymore?"

"Yes, I'd loose the ability to feel my own emotions, but I wouldn't be overwhelmed by other people's emotions, either. I could function."

"Function? How about living? If you do this, you'd become the machine they want to turn you into. You can't do this. You'd loose yourself and your ability to connect with humanity. Please reconsider it."

"But I cannot help you, if I don't do this. It's a weakness that needs to be eliminated. I've made up my mind. It's my body, I will choose." Ivan turned to leave.

Albert looked over his shoulder and said, "It seems to me your pa... the Gamos are imposing their choice for your life, even from a distance. Just because you were forced into a machine body, doesn't mean you have to have a machine heart."

Ivan looked back at Albert. "I will not reconsider."

* * *

Jet stretched and turned to the man with the slicked-back, blond hair. "Hey, where are we again, Captain Cliff?"

"Port Lincoln." The man lit a cigarette and gestured towards a series of buildings by the docks. "Fishing town. Probably small, by New York standards."

"Suits me fine, for now," Jet mumbled. He turned to see Frances; she looked incredibly sad. Ivan, beside her, looked just as serious. "Hey you two, you're making Herr Heinrich look cheery."

"Albert," the German man said, walking up to Jet. He gave the older man a raised eyebrow. Albert lit a cigarette himself and said, "My name is Albert. All of you can call me by my first name and use less formal address. It's a little ridiculous, at this point, to be so formal."

"Well... Frances told me that it wasn't cool to call old Germans guys by their first names without permission. Guess that's something," Jet replied in German, hoping to irritate Albert.

Albert ignored Jet and looked over to the cargo ship captain. "We need to get a start here. Any jobs?"

"Always, at the docks. Day work and long term. You'll find something. Third building up, ask for McElhaney."

"Housing?"

"Rentals up the street," Cliff said, pointing.

"Something private, away from people?" Albert asked.

"Head north."

"Thanks for your help."

"Thank you," the man said, taking some lire from Albert. The man turned and left.

"Great! How much money do we have?" Jet asked.

Albert held up several colorful lire. "Enough to live on for about a week, depending on the economy and our thrift. We need to find a place and call Kozumi right away. Then you and I will go look up McElhaney."

"I was afraid you were going to say that," Jet griped, following Albert down the street, with Frances and Ivan in tow.

* * *

Frances paced back and forth, while Jet and Albert played cards on the nicked-up coffee table. She knew they were truly angry at one another. The fight they'd had yesterday was incredible.

They had found jobs the day after they arrived in Australia at the local shipping yards, packing fish in crates. Now, two week later, Jet had had a huge argument with the foreman and had gotten fired. Jet ran off, leaving Albert to work the rest of the shift alone.

Albert arrived at their rental house and told Frances about it. She was angry, herself, because she had yet to find work, and money was too tight. Jet showed up in time for dinner. He immediately jumped over Albert for not taking his side. Before Frances could act as a peacemaker between them, Albert, rather than responding back with anger, calmly told him he refused to side with Jet if he were in the wrong.

Then Albert gave him the ultimatum: get another legitimate job or leave; their lives depended on everyone pulling together. Jet looked shamefaced, after that, and didn't respond. Frances quietly served them dinner, and the four of them ate in peace. After dinner, Jet apologized and promised to find another job.

Albert then pointed out that Kozumi was arriving and needed Jet to pick him up. Jet picked up the Japanese biochemist. It wasn't long before the man was firmly ensconced in Ivan's attic room with the teen-aged cyborg.

"It's been hours," Frances said. Albert checked the clock on the wall and tossed his cards on the table.

"Don't worry, Frances. He'll take care of him."

"Yeah, Albert is right, Kozumi knows what he's doing, and..." Jet tossed his card hand on the table. "...I've got something to do."

"What's that?" Albert asked.

"Picking up Kozumi gave me an idea."

Frances watched Albert's eyebrow quirk right before Jet sauntered out of their house. She started picking up around the small house and her own bedroom to distract her from her worry over Ivan.

The only room she refused to clean was the room Albert and Jet had to share. Jet, and Frances suspected Albert as well, had wanted separate rooms, but they couldn't afford to rent a bigger place. Frankly, Frances was happy. Until she got a job, the majority of the housework fell to her.

Meanwhile, Albert read a book on their worn sofa; she didn't begrudge him too much, because he worked so hard all week long and was supporting them. Still, a part of her wished he would help out a little. She could use the companionship, more than anything else.

"I'm finished," Kozumi called out. Frances stopped doing the lunch dishes and came into the living room. The man sat on the sofa beside Albert, who set aside his book. Frances prepared tea for them and they got comfortable, before Kozumi launched into his verdict.

"His brain is amazing, to say the least, but there has been a major flaw. The areas of brain that control his psychic abilities are in electronic harnesses and wired into a central unit. I just don't have enough expertise on that unit. When he uses his powers, those areas swell and press against the harnesses. Extreme heat is caused and this is what triggers his bleeding. It's a miracle this setup hasn't caused a stroke or an aneurysm." Kozumi nodded thanks to Frances, while lofting his tea cup.

He took a long sip as Albert asked, "He's lucky to be alive, isn't he?"

"Very much so, but I think I can control the swelling. The harnesses needs adjustment. It's a very serious operation that must take place over several weeks. I need to release his brain by small amounts, let it adjust and then loosen it further."

"Will that fix his empathy problem?" Frances asked.

"His hormonal balance is all wrong. This is a tougher fix. He went from an infant to a teenager within one week. They didn't allow his flesh parts to experience the growth of a normal child. There is a lot of hormonal development in between. I believe this, along with the electronics, are contributing to the problem. My hope is that, with time, I can fix most of the damage done, and he can live a somewhat normal existence."

"How much time, Doctor?" Albert asked.

"I don't know. I'm not as skilled as his father is at the electronic enhancements. If I make a mistake, he'll die. Damn! If only Gilmore were here. He'd be able to fill me in on my concerns."

"He's still with the Black Ghost?" Frances asked, before finishing her tea.

"Yes, he still thinks he's one of them, and he's trying to persuade me to join," Kozumi said with an air of disgruntlement.

"He doesn't know you're here?" she asked.

"Of course not. I told him I was visiting my relatives in Kyoto. I was very careful," Kozumi said. He cleared his throat and stood up. "Herr Heinrich, could you please escort me to the door. I'm staying at a close by hotel."

"Sure thing, Doctor," Albert replied. The two men stepped outside while Frances picked up the tea set. Her fear over Ivan's well-being outweighed her morals over not snooping. She expanded her hearing.

"...and he begged me to do it, but I refused. It's just too horrible," Kozumi whispered, in a frosty tone.

"I know. I think there is so much to it. He won't tell me exactly why he wants this," Albert answered in a dower tone.

"He maybe intellectually mature, but he's still an emotional child. His judgment isn't developed quite as well as ours."

"Yes, there are times he gets overly attached, or tries to get his way in spite of others' wishes, but it's very subtle."

"Well, I can only do so much. I can ease his physical pain, with time, and give him a chance to have his body balance itself. But... he'll have to learn coping mechanisms, just like everyone else. I don't know how to do that," Kozumi said. "I think what it comes down to this: he doesn't want to feel anything, anymore. He's been through so much that he can't deal with it on an emotional level. He's terrified to experience emotions, for some reason."

Frances was more worried than ever. Ivan was considering doing something horrible to himself. She had to talk to him, get him to understand emotions were a part of life.

She heard Albert and Kozumi walk down the sidewalk. She finished cleaning up and headed towards the staircase.

* * *

Frances knocked on his door for the third time. "Please, Ivan, let me in. We need to talk."

The door cracked open. She walked in to see him leaning against the window across the long room, his left eye glowed bright blue. The attic room was frosty and dim. She could see the sky was growing gray as a droplets of rain gently pattered.

The heavy musty smell tickled her nose as she walked towards Ivan. She sat on the edge of the corroded brass bed with shabby quilts. She watched him wrap his arms across his stomach tighter; his eyes were fixed on something outside the window.

"Please talk to me. I know you're hiding something, and I know you're in a lot of pain. Talk to me, so I can help you."

"You can't help me. No one can."

"I thought we were friends. Friends confide in one another."

He swallowed hard and shut his eyes. "Yes, we are."

"Then what are you planning? I overheard Kozumi and Albert talk. They're afraid for you. Why?"

He didn't open his eyes, just laid his head of the foggy window. "I want Doctor Kozumi to remove the part of my brain that allows me to experience emotions."

"What! Why one earth would you have him do such a thing to you? He said he could fix the problem with your empathy. You wouldn't need to go to such a drastic measure."

"Even so, I still will feel. I feel all these nasty emotions coming from people. Sick things that disturb me. I no longer wish to see that side of humanity. It makes me loose my willingness to protect people from the Black Ghost."

She stunned, this was a dreadful admission from Ivan. She shook her head and said, "I can't believe that. You still helped rescue us. None of us were pure with positive emotions or thoughts all the time. You still feel compelled to help us and to find away to eliminate the Black Ghost."

"You don't understand. I'm starting to feel things about my parents that I never have before. I used to have no emotions towards them, but now I... feel... so much... so utterly ugly..." Ivan's words drifted from French into Russian as his body began to shake. The house seemed tremble in response. Objects started drifting in midair.

She clutched the edge of the bed. "Ivan! Stop!"

He turned around, shock on his face. Everything went still as his right eye dulled to a normal blue. He sunk to the floor beneath the window and sat, elbows on his knees. His face was totally anguished; the reality that Ivan had suffered the most out of all of them hit her hard.

"Don't you see, Frances, I'm also starting to feel things towards all of you. It's so close to anger and greed. I don't know what it is. Every time the three of you are asleep, and I'm awake, your dreams come to me. Dreams of what it was like to live a normal life. I've been learning what it was like to have friends, go to school, have regular parents... both good and bad. To go outside and enjoy a summer day with a first love. Experience the wicked thrill of stealing. To know what it is to dance on stage and get accolades. I know them all from all of you, and I crave for those experiences."

Frances walked over to Ivan and sat beside him. "You're experiencing envy. It isn't pleasant. It can make people do horrible things."

Ivan's head jerked up, he looked surprised. "Yes! I know that sensation. That night we left Paris. The first time I felt a trickle of emotion was from Natalie. It was so strong that I couldn't help, but notice it."

"Why not get rid of my emotions, if they can lead me to do awful things like betray my friends." Ivan got a determined look on his face. "No, it's a weakness I will not let them exploit."

"It can also be a strength! Ivan, how do you think I made it out of the Black Ghost? If it wasn't my love for Jean-Paul, I would have been lost. My love for my brother gave me strength to leave and survive. Don't you see? Love is very powerful, more so than envy or any other nasty emotion you can name. If you get rid of your ability to feel emotions, you can't attach yourself to humanity any longer."

His expression grew grave, his head drooped down. "Maybe I want to give up the ability to feel love as well."

"What? Why would you want to do that?"

"I can truly feel Albert's sense of loss now. As the days go by, it gets further from his conscious thoughts, but it's still there, like an ugly scar on his spirit. It will never heal."

Frances shook her head. "No, it will never heal all the way. He will always have that pain with him, but he will live, and he could possible find happiness again. He risked a lot for her. Without love, he wouldn't have tried to make her life better by trying to take her from East Berlin. One day, Ivan, you'll understand. You'll meet a girl..."

"You are the one who doesn't understand," Ivan whispered, pausing Frances. He looked up at her, very solemn. "I feel that way now about someone, but I can't experience it. I'm trapped in this body. Forever! The person I care about a great deal will always look on me as her little brother. Someone to protect, even thought, I want to be the one to protect her. I want to rid myself of feeling this love because it will never be returned."

Frances felt herself stop breathing as Ivan's implication hit her. "I didn't know." Her astonishment faded gradually. She laid her hand on Ivan's shoulder as she tried to sort out her thoughts.

"You don't need to say anything, Frances. I'll have the surgery done, and you won't have to worry about it any more."

"I care a great deal about you, Ivan. Yes, I do see you as a little brother. That won't change, not ever. I do respect and understand your feelings, however, I can't return them. But this is no reason to destroy yourself. These things happen, and we can work through this. Promise me you'll not have this done."

"I won't promise, but I will wait and see what Kozumi can do."

"Good, just give him a chance."

"I'm so angry at Fyodor for trapping me in a younger teenager's body. When I was in an infant's body, I didn't have all these emotions and feelings. I won't ever have a normal relationship with anyone. It's denied to me..." Ivan's bitter voice made Frances flinch. "They denied it to me."

"It's so cruel," Frances said, squeezing his shoulder.

"I don't understand why you're crying." Ivan's words made Frances's hand fly to her face. Indeed, she had tears.

"I'm crying because my friend is suffering," Frances answered simply. Before she rose to leave, she wrapped her arms around his shoulder and gave him a brief kiss to his temple. She reached his door and turned to say, "Try to rest. Dinner will be in a few hours."

He gave her a ghost of a smile and nodded. She went back to the kitchen, finished cleaning, and started dinner. She fought hard to quell her irritation at Albert. He should have told her about Ivan's plans to remove his ability to experience emotions; not doing so made him a hypocrite, in Frances's opinion.

* * *

Yana drained her scotch glass and gazed out over the ocean. The moonlight shown bright, in spite of the slight overcast. The cruise ship was only half way across the Indian ocean.

"Countess, we need to talk," Ember said, leaning against the railing beside her. She scowled at him as he lit a cigarette. "We're not so different. We both want the same thing. Our families."

"True," she admitted.

"Good. Then we can agree that we're in not in a good position, so long as our spouses are on Island X."

"Agreed," she said, her heart missed a beat thinking of her husband, a brilliant electronic engineer. "I can tell you have some idea. Is it an idea that smacks of treason?"

"Oh yeah," Ember said, grinning.

"We are to observe the Double Zero Cyborgs. What are you proposing?"

"That we kill them and then hide the bodies."

"Our spouses would be killed instantly. Then we would be killed ourselves, after torture."

"Yes, but if we offer the bodies in exchange for our families and our freedom..."

Her brow furrowed. "You're right. They want those cyborgs back, badly. We kill 003 and 004. They'll be obsolete soon enough. We take 001 and 002 alive. They are the most valuable to the Black Ghost."

"Agreed," Ember said. She gave him a slow, sly smile.

"Agreed. They will pay for embarrassing us... with their lives."

To be continued.


	11. Chapter 11

[Alright, Doctor Kaminari is from the first part of the manga volume 4. He's going to play a larger role in up coming chapters. I know this seems like it's stretching out. I have chapter 13 to write, that's when the first generations are going to change their 'attitude' towards the Black Ghost and take a more offensive approach. By chapter 14 the second generation, minus Joe, will be introduce. Then it's going to be a lot of action from there on out. Thank you for sticking with my story. I hope you're enjoying it. I love writing exploring their personalities and how they would be different in this situation. Ivan has really taken me for a loop... thanks to my husband for lots of great conversations about this version of Ivan.]

Chapter 11:

Albert walked into the kitchen and sat at the table. Frances didn't pause from chopping carrots to greet him. He took a deep breath, figuring he was in trouble for something. Hilda was like that, too.

"Are you okay, Frances?"

"Should I be, when I just found out that Ivan wants part of his brain removed?"

Albert stifled his intake of breath. "I'm glad he told you."

"Why didn't you?" She turned to face him, after tossing the carrots in a boiling pot.

"Because he made me promise. He wouldn't have told me otherwise, and I figured someone should know."

"You should have told me anyway. You demand to know everything about us, yet you keep important information from us."

Albert looked up at her and said, "I never claimed to be perfect. I'm doing the best I can."

She looked deflated, suddenly, almost abashed. She sat to his left and leaned against the table. "Albert, I need to ask you something very personal. Ivan..." Frances's face flushed. "...he told me he is in love with me. Is it possible?"

"Of course. Boys get crushes all the time. He's still a person, granted, a very powerful person. He could fall in love, but it would be very inconvenient the way he is."

"But..." Frances's skin turned bright red. "It must be terrible. To not be able to have a full relationship. You, Jet, and Ivan are..."

"Oh, wait a minute. I think you misunderstood what I said a long time ago. Just because we're sterile, doesn't mean that we aren't able to have physical relationships. They didn't... remove the important things."

Frances gasped and looked shocked. "Oh, I didn't need to know that." He let out gusty laughter. "Why are you telling me this?" she hissed as she went to check the pot. "You know I don't like to talk about such things."

"Yes, I know. I think the reason I mentioned it... " Albert paused at the sound of the front door, and Jet's appearance at the kitchen's doorway. He was carrying a huge book. Jet had a very self-satisfied expression; this peeked Albert's curiosity. ".... was because you insisted on being fully informed about everybody."

"Man, I missed something. Frannie, you look so red."

"You never mind, you busybody!" Frances shouted, tossing a dish towel at Jet. The New Yorker just snickered and sat at the table. "And, Albert, you act like a child from time to time, too. Even though you did make your point, sometimes we have to maintain some privacy."

"Albert?" The three of them turned to Ivan. He walked through the doorway and sat across the table from Jet. The three other cyborgs gave Ivan their attention. "I want to ask you something. If you knew, now, that you would loose your wife, would you still have had a relationship with her?"

Albert felt a small shock wave as all eyes turned to him. It was silent except for the boiling water on the stove. He took a deep breath and absently touched the gold band hanging around his neck.

"Without a doubt, yes. I loved Hilda very much. She brought me a lot of joy, and we did have a good life together until the Berlin Wall went up. She was with her dying mother when the wall went up. I was at our home in West Berlin."

"Was that her name?" Frances asked.

"I guess I haven't talked about her much. We met when we were at school, studying music. She was able to teach children lessons, but the economy was so poor, I had to find part-time work as a delivery driver."

"You mean you went to college for music?" Jet asked, looking dumbfounded. Albert nodded, and then there was some expression on Jet's face he couldn't read. He turned back towards Frances, who was sitting across from him.

"Yes, for a while I worked to become a composer. We got married after we saved up enough money and moved to West Berlin in hopes of making a better living. We did for a while, and I was able to teach music for a while, as well. It wasn't long after we moved that her mother became ill. Hilda went to go take care of her. That's when the government got stricter on letting people go across the border. She was trapped.

"Several months of trying to get her out legally didn't work. It was one battle after the next. Finally, I was left no choice. After her mother passed away, she wanted to come back to our home in West Berlin. We were able to meet briefly, and I came up with the idea to smuggle her across the border. It seemed like a good plan, since I still had friends in East Berlin from when I worked as a part-time delivery driver. It all went horribly wrong. I lost control of the truck, and she died in that accident. That's when the Black Ghost agents took me away."

"How long had you been married?" Frances asked, getting up and putting the hot food into bowls.

"Almost seven years. It would have been last October." He took a deep breath and, started when he realized Frances had set food in front of him. "It seems so long ago."

"You never had children?" Frances asked timidly.

Albert gave her a reassuring smile. "No, we were trying. We finally had enough money and a nice home." Albert clasped his hands together and looked over at Ivan. "The point is, that I wouldn't have had seven wonderful years with Hilda without risk. For me to say, 'Because I'm grieving now means I would have been better off without her,' would show the greatest disrespect for our life together. I regret nothing in the married life I had, but I do regret what happened that night. If only..." Albert felt his chest constrict and his throat dry up. "...I was careless."

Ivan nodded. "I understand. There is a lot to ponder."

Albert forced a smile, his heart was a little heavier as he thought about the things he could have done differently to get Hilda out of East Berlin. Something caught his eye to the left, and he forced his attention to Jet. "So, you were looking too happy when you came in, Jet. What's that book?"

Jet snapped out of the daze he was in and flashed Albert a grin. "I got a job."

Albert smiled back. "That's great news! Only after two days?"

"Yeah well... I don't take 'no' for an answer when there's something I want. But..." Jet looked a little chagrined. "...there are some conditions. You see, I'm working at the airstrip over east of here, where I picked up Kozumi. I met the owner and asked about becoming a pilot. He blew me off, but I kept it up and showed him I knew some of the basics. Thank you, Mr. Jean-Paul."

Frances reached over, patted his arm, and smiled. "So then what happened?"

"He was impressed enough, but he still couldn't afford to pay me, and I certainly can't pay for all the lessons I need, so we struck a deal. I sweep up, answer phones, run errands, and do a lot of grunt work for a few months. Then I can take the test, and he can hire me to fly deliveries around. He wants to expand his business. Here is the bad part. In exchange, he'll pay me a little, but mostly, I'll be working off training to become an official pilot. So..."

"It means you won't be bringing in much money for a while," Albert finished. Jet looked nervous, but there was hope in those brandy-colored eyes. It was the first time Albert had ever seen this kind of vulnerability in Jet's jaded attitude. Albert smirked, "We'll make do."

Jet let out a relived breath. "I'll show you three I'm not some loser."

"Wait a minute," Albert frowned. "Not once did I ever call you a loser. I didn't like some of the things you did, even thought they were necessary, but not once did I ever doubt your worth as a person. You're the only one among us who thinks of Jet Link as a loser."

"Albert is right. We know you're clever enough to come up with something and pull yourself up. I certainly didn't doubt it, either. It's just frustrating, sometimes. I watched Jean-Paul give you lessons and the enjoyment you received from them. The next thing I know, you're bending the law rather than trying to find an honest solution," Frances said, before taking a sip of water.

Jet flopped the book down on the corner of the table, crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair. "So there would be no circumstance you would ever find yourself willing to steal? Even after all this time? Say you had the Black Ghost breathing down your pretty little neck again, you wouldn't steal if you had to?"

"No, the Black Ghost can't force me to do anything against my morals. I have free will," Frances insisted.

Albert waved his hand and said, "Jet, stop provoking Frances. But," Albert leaned on the table and gave Frances a scrutinizing look, "never accept absolutes as truth, Frances. I thought that way once. The disillusionment is difficult to deal with."

"I think you're being naive," Jet taunted. Frances shot them both dirty looks, and shook her head, dismissing their judgments.

"Why did you have to bring up the Black Ghost, anyway, when we should just concentrate on being happy for you?" Frances asked. She stood and looked around the table. "Besides, you really have inspired me, Jet. To pursue dreams." There was a far away expression on Frances's face; it was something that caused apprehension in Albert. "You boys are going to get the dishes clean, and then Jet is taking us out for ice-cream."

She whirled and around and walked out of the kitchen. Jet shook his head and muttered, "Dames."

"I heard that," she called out from her bedroom.

* * *

Yana watched the twins walk along the Vietnamese shoreline. They both tossed random rocks in, scowling at the ocean. The oaf sat under a tree, carving on a piece of drift wood. Ember came up to her and shook his head.

"Nothing. No trace."

"Of course not. We need to regroup at Island X. I just received word that Mrs. Gamo has awakened."

"This is news," Ember agreed.

"She's still dazed, but she wants her son back. I have a feeling she can help us."

"I hope so."

"Once she tells us where 001 is, we'll leave. Our plans are the same. Kill 003 and 004. Keep 001 and 002 incapacitated."

"It's a good plan. We need to get word to our families to be ready to move at a moments notice."

"Yes. I also plan on taking the twins with me."

"Really?" He was wearing a smug expression.

"Yes, they are all for leaving the Black Ghost because there is a threat of being split up. They're too effective together, but Scar needs to divide his resources to keep things going. I can use them for protection."

"Well, if that's the case, the oaf comes with me."

"I knew you had a soft spot for him," Yana sneered. "But he is effective, too."

"He makes a good nanny for my daughter," Ember explained. A hard glint came to his eyes. "And protection for her, too."

"Then our plans are coming together. Timing will be everything. Scar is getting desperate. We can gain the advantage. We'll make sure we also get plenty of money in exchange for the Double Zero Cyborgs. After all, we'll need to make a fresh start with our spouses."

"Exactly, you know, we may, if you have enough moxie, push to have him voted out by the Merchants of Death. I bet you..."

"No!" She turned towards him and gave him a frosty glare. "I'm not your tool. It's enough for me to provide a beautiful house for my husband to come home to. I want nothing more. To rule the Black Ghost is not my dream."

Ember shook his head. "It could be taken in a new direction to benefit humanity, but it needs someone like you in charge."

"You attack Scar, if you're that foolish."

"I just want a better world for my daughter. Everywhere we've been traveling over the last several months... nothing but misery."

Her expression softened and she nodded. She turned back to gaze at the ocean. "I was never able to have children. You are very lucky, Ember. I envy you."

"Don't envy the mess I've made for her and my wife by joining the Black Ghost."

"The decision to join was made by my husband. I went along with his desires. I serve the Black Ghost, but it's an act of devotion towards my husband. I see now that I should have persuaded him otherwise. It's time for me to act. Why did you obligate your family to this?"

"The money was so good. I needed to provide for them. I didn't think about the consequences. Your husband probably did the same."

"No, he's an ambitious man. He wanted to push his experiments to the extreme, and the modern science academies rejected his ideas, because they involved merging humans bodies with computers. He believes humans should abandon their flesh in favor of immortality. Only the Black Ghost was willing to give him a chance to develop his science."

They were silent for several long minutes. Ember finally said, "The key for us to get everything we want is subduing the Double Zero Cyborgs. Once we get them, everything else will fall into place."

"Yes, let's leave. Castor, Pollux! You too, oaf. Come along," she shouted, turning towards the dock.

* * *

"...and this is Doctor Kaminari. I met him through Gilmore a few years ago. He's someone very sympathetic to your cause, you could say," Kozumi introduced the taller, Italian scientist in a loud suit.

Frances and the other four stared at the man. She could sense the apprehension run through them all. It had been two weeks since Kozumi's initial exam of Ivan. They were shocked when the man had brought an unannounced guest to their very living room; all of them were rather wary of the strange doctor.

"Listen, I know you're protective, but..."

Ivan stepped forward and finished, "...he's an expert on robotics and electronics. He was starting to develop a rather advanced robot."

The man looked slightly embarrassed and nodded.

"I've seen Gamo's work, and I think I can help," Kaminari said.

"Why help me? Your research helped do this to me!" Ivan howled in rage. The coffee table hurled against a wall opposite them. France jumped in front of Ivan, clasped his right shoulder, and soundly slapped his face.

"Stop it, right now! You can't take out your anger at your father against someone else trying to make amends."

Ivan slowly stopped panting; his right eye faded rapidly. He nodded and whispered, "I'm sorry, Frances. I'm so very sorry."

Kaminari stepped forward and said, "Kid, I'm sorry. When I knew how crazy Gamo and the others were, I left. Kozumi told me you were still out here and in trouble. He also told me how you have Gilmore brainwashed. I know that crazy guy would be here helping you if he could. Instead, you have me. I'm no prize, but I'll do what I can to fix your brain's wiring."

Kozumi stepped forward with a black doctor's bag. "I've got some hormone therapy for you. I took all your samples back, and I think I've developed something that will work. The treatments could take on up to five years to get you balanced, but it's a step in the right direction."

They were silent for several long minutes. It surprised Frances to see Kaminari's grit as he flung his jacket off, rolled up his sleeves, and said, "Let's get started on loosening that harness in your head. Maybe it'll fix your nasty temper."

* * *

Frances walked into their rented house, barely containing her trembling. She was glad to see Jet and Albert sitting on the couch playing Spades against Kaminari and Kozumi. Ivan's multiple surgeries had been a three day ordeal, but Kaminari was hoping to wrap it up tomorrow.

"I have some good news!" Frances said, sitting on the sofa beside Jet. "Thanks to you, I worked up the determination to find a job doing what I was meant to do."

"Doing my laundry doesn't pay much," Jet quipped. She gave him a mock slap on his arm.

"No, silly. I got a job at the local dance studio. I'll be teaching ballet after school and on weekends. The owner of the studio also she says she knows some who can get me work doing costumes. From there, I can work towards getting an audition in Sydney."

"Hey, that's so great!" Jet said and actually gave her an exaggerated, fraternal hug.

Frances started talking out the details when she noticed Albert's expression was grave. She looked at him and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. My mind is elsewhere. I'm glad you found something."

Frances didn't miss Albert's dower tone, but she couldn't confront him.

"Well, we better go back to the hotel," Kozumi said, stifling a yawn. After the middle-aged scientists left, Albert turned in. Jet cracked open his flight manual after explaining that Ivan was in a deep sleep. Suddenly she felt very alone.

* * *

"Albert, maybe this isn't a good idea," Ivan whispered as they walked through the glass double-doors. "I'm not... the surgeries aren't finished, and I still can't distinguish my emotions from others. I know why you and Frances are doing this to me, but I don't agree with it. Neither does Jet."

"Kozumi says this is the best way to get you acclimated to being around intense emotions."

"I already feel strange. Please, Albert, I don't understand why you insist on it. Besides, I can learn perfectly fine on my own."

"Because, you do need to be around people your own age, well, the age you look so you can get a handle on how to blend in with normal people."

"I have a bad felling about this," Ivan mumbled. _:And I don't need my abilities to tell me that.:_

Albert gave him a wry expression and lead him inside the school's office to register Ivan. The German cyborg claimed Ivan was Hilda's nephew, and now was his ward, since she was deceased. Soon, Ivan was enrolled and starting his first foray into formal education.

The academics were not a problem, at all. It was the other students around him that created his problems. Being new was complicated by being Russian and very intelligent. The other students seemed wary or too wrapped up in their own dramas to pay much attention to Ivan.

He stuck with school, since Frances had asked it of him after the two doctors suggested it. Every day, though, it put him through a harsh, emotional battering. He withdrew more into himself and started avoiding Frances more and more.

* * *

Albert wiped the moisture off his brow with his sleeve. He stretched and walked out of the warehouse after his shift was over. He was surprised to see Jet outside, leaning against the beat-up old truck he occasionally borrowed from his boss.

"Come to pick me up?" Albert asked with a smirk.

"And to show you this." Jet held a small piece of paper. Albert took it and read that Jet Link was now, officially, a pilot authorized by the Australian government. "Thanks to Captain Cliff helping us with all that government paperwork, I'm legit to work now."

"That's great news, Jet. I knew you could do it. You worked so hard, studying every minute."

"I really surprised myself. I mean, I was never good at school. I'm a dro... well..." There was a sudden awkwardness in Jet's attitude. Albert now knew Jet well enough that he could sense shame underneath it all. Jet shrugged it off and then admitted. "I never finished high school. I left when I was sixteen."

Albert handed Jet back the license, and said with earnest, "I'm very proud of you."

Albert didn't think he could have shocked the young man any more than by uttering those words. Jet suddenly got awkward, all over again. Jet crossed his arms across his stomach, fixed his eyes on the ground, and started toeing a small rock on the pavement.

"Um.. so... I figured since you helped me out... I'd take you for a flight. How about it?"

"Sure. Sounds like fun."

* * *

Jet's thrill rose as he guided the small prop plane into the sky. This was his second solo flight, ever. After he set the plane into a cruise, he looked over to Albert. The older man had a faint smile as he watched the Australian landscape below.

"Cool, hun?"

"Yes, very nice. Australia is truly gorgeous."

"I know. I'm starting to really think of this as home. You know, we're really working things out here. Things are looking up for us."

"Well, I think Frances isn't so happy with her job, nor is Ivan happy with school."

"Aw..." Jet waved his hand dismissively. "They'll get over it. Especially, since we've really ditched the Black Ghost. We can breath again."

Jet was grateful Albert, usually pessimistic, kept his mouth shut. Instead, he was surprised to see a smile spread across Albert's face. "It does seem too good to be true."

"It is true," Jet insisted.

* * *

Yana marched out of the hospital wing of the Black Ghost complex and joined the twins; they had waited in the hallway while she interviewed a weakened and confused Erika Gamo.

"Countess?" Castor asked, with a raised eyebrow.

She didn't bother hiding her arrogant expression. "You go find Ember and the oaf. Tell him phase one is about to begin."

"So she knows where 001 is?" Pollux asked.

"Not really, but she gave me a clue in all of her rambling. I won't reveal what I know until we're in the air. Pollux, make sure my plane is ready."

"Just a hint, madam?" Castor asked, a devious smirk crossed both his and Pollux's faces.

"It's below the Equator," she said. "Now, I'll go have a brief talk with my husband. Have the team assembled and ready to fly within the hour."

"Yes, Countess," they chanted and ran off to their separate tasks.

To be continued.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

Frances was exhausted. She'd had a long day and nothing seemed to work out right. Several of the girls were distracted and weren't paying Frances attention during the dance lesson. She had thought teaching would have been a great way to still be involved in ballet, and some days, she did enjoy it.

Most days, it was a reminder that she had been a day away from her dreams of being a Prima Ballerina. It was also a more subtle reminder that she would never have children. At first, she wasn't conscious of it. Slowly, it dawned on her, as she found herself getting less patient with the less serious girls.

It had seemed like a good idea, at the time. After all, if Jet Link could obtain his dream job and enjoy it, why shouldn't she have hers and find some of her own happiness. She couldn't help irrationally throwing the blame on Jet for inspiring her in the first place, even though she knew that was grossly unfair.

Also, earlier that afternoon, she heard rumors of an audition in Melbourne for a dance troupe. It was frustrating, because she couldn't get there in time, and Albert had hinted that she needed to keep a lower profile than preforming on stage. She reluctantly gave up the idea, but the desire was still in her heart.

She admitted Albert was right, but she begrudged him for saying it out loud. After all, the German man worked extra shifts so Jet could get his pilot's license, why couldn't he be more supportive with her? Only the nebulous fear of the Black Ghost had kept her from confronting him.

The most dreadful thing that happened to her this day was seeing the third returned envelop she had received from Calley; Jean-Paul had disappeared somewhere, and she couldn't go find him. She was stuck in Australia, for now, which only added more resentment towards Albert. Jean-Paul was still her only family; she still desperately missed him, and now, worried about him.

Frances rubbed her forehead, trying to ward off the headache starting to form. She threw her duffel bag in her bedroom and went to the kitchen. She was further irritated to see Jet hadn't laid the chicken out to thaw.

"Ivan," she called out.

_:What is it, Frances?:_

"Where are you?"

_:My room. I'm studying.:_

"Come keep me company. You can do your homework later," she said out loud, while trying to run warm water over the frozen chicken. "By the way, where are Jet and Albert? They should have been home before me."

_:They're fine. I sense no distress from them.:_

"Ivan I'm in no mood. Where are they?"

_:I don't know. I don't want to snoop in their heads to find out. I just keep track of their distress levels. But... it would seem they're having fun.:_

"Fun!" Frances's anger spiked. It was like Italy again. Jet not pulling his weight, Albert caught in some sort of self-introspection, it was too much for Frances to take right now. Especially, with the stress of the day hanging over her head.

She flung the chicken in the trash can, cleaned up the sink, and yanked open the refrigerator. She fixed herself and Ivan a salad. The boy appeared in the kitchen, which was nothing new for Frances to witness, now that he had a little more control over his abilities. He quickly ate and disappeared, not giving Frances much conversation. It made her a little sad, because they used to be closer.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by sounds at the front door. She quietly stood up and peeked into the living-room. Jet flopped down beside Albert. They both were chuckling and looking thoroughly cheerful. Jet threw his arms across the back of the sofa. Albert was slouching, hands clasped across his stomach.

"I had a really good time," Albert said. "Thanks so much."

"Least I could do," Jet said, with a lop-sided smile.

"You still should work on that landing. I thinking you knocked my molar loose," Albert said, shooting Jet a playful smirk.

Jet snorted in mock disgust. "Hey, next time you ride on the wings. Or, next time I could fly you around, minus the plane."

Albert snickered as Frances marched into the living-room, crossed her arms, and stared down at them. Jet said, "Hey, Frannie! Good news..."

"Why didn't you set out the chicken, like I asked this morning?"

Jet looked dumbfounded, but then his face slowly worked up a glower. "Sorry, I forgot. Don't bust my chops over it. Just fix something else."

"How about you make your own dinner. For the last time, I'm not your wife," Frances said.

"Couldn't tell! You nag me like one!"

"You..." she shouted, but Albert jumped up. She whirled on him and said, "And you! I thought you were more responsible. You should call if you were going to be late. You know the situation we're in."

"I'm sorry, Frances. We didn't mean to worry you."

"Well, Ivan and I have already eaten. You figure it out yourself," she said. Frances turned, went to her bedroom, and steadied her breathing. It wasn't long before she heard the front door open and close again. She cracked her door open and was dismayed and saddened to see the living room empty.

* * *

"I don't understand her," Jet said, before nursing his lukewarm beer. "You know, I was having a great day until she started up."

Albert shrugged and took a sip of his own beer. "Haven't you ever had a girlfriend?"

Electricity ran through the pit of his stomach. He took a sip of his beer, praying the heat in his face wasn't visible; he silently cursed the Black Ghost for making his skin too realistic. He had found girls fine every now and again, but when he met Jean-Paul something had changed that he wanted to bury.

He sighed and adopted an annoyed air. "They get in your way when you're trying to have a good time. I mean, I never went steady with one, but I've gone all the way a few times," he admitted.

"Well, dealing with a woman on a personal level is different than just having a tryst. Frances is having a hard time. She's trying to reconcile a lot of things she's not talking about."

"Why doesn't she just deal with it?"

"Women don't communicate the same way we do. It's just different."

"Oh. I think it's her job that's bugging her," Jet agreed.

"Yes, I also think it's her brother. I noticed another letter was returned today. It may be things we don't even know."

"Like Ivan's crush on her?"

Albert gave him a sour expression and nodded. "I think Ivan is coping rather well."

"Frannie is a real doll." Jet gave a shrugged. "But still... that temper is a real drag."

Albert's lips twisted wryly. "Same could be said of your temper."

Jet's mind went blank, and he couldn't dredge up a come-back. Albert laughed hysterically and then said, "Let's have a few more and let her cool down. Here, eat some pretzels, or you'll be drunk by the time you finish that beer."

"Aw you... stop talking like you're my old man. It'll take more than a few beers to get me blitzed."

Albert laughed. "Want to bet on it?"

"I'll drink you under the table," Jet bragged as Albert motioned for a waitress.

"Are you sure you want to test me on drinking beer?"

* * *

"Australia," Yana said, stepping off her personal airplane. They had landed in Melbourne at midnight.

"You sure?" Ember asked, joining her.

"His mother kept talking about animals not indigenous to Russia and extreme cold."

"Cold? But... Oh. Makes sense. It's July. Moscow would be warm at this time," Ember said. "Now we're here, how do we find them? Could be New Zealand."

"It is true, but we'll start here. His mother had the impression of the strong oder of fish. We'll take our time and investigate each town along the coast. We'll be very quiet and subtle, so we can have the advantage. After we're sure, we'll search New Zealand. I do know we're close. I feel it."

"Yes, ma'am. We'll have them soon," he agreed as the twins and the oaf joined them.

* * *

Albert and Jet sneaking in the front door woke Frances up. Not because of her acute hearing, but because they were stumbling around. She put on a robe and cracked her door. She was about to go castigate them, however she was tired of being angry with them. Instead, she found herself grinning as Albert, who was slightly less drunk, judging by his ability to walk, had an arm around Jet's shoulders and was trying to guide him to their room.

The taller, younger man wasn't cooperating. He was giggling and stumbling away. Albert hushed Jet and pulled him along to the bedroom. Jet went stumbling forward and fell against their door.

"Ow... that'll hurt tomorrow," Jet mumbled in English. Albert shook his head.

"I told you to pace yourself. You have no clue about moderation. In anything, do you?" Albert said in German.

"Nope!"

"Come on, fly boy." Albert opened their door and gently shoved Jet towards his bed. Jet fell on his stomach and passed out almost instantly. Albert sighed and sat on the edge of Jet's bed. He pulled his gloves off slowly and patted Jet's back.

"You're really something else," Albert said, standing up and stretching. He climbed into his own bed and settled on his back. Frances could tell the man fell into a deep sleep quickly. She shut her door and sat on the edge of her bed, pondering Jet, Albert, and Ivan. She was bound to them, like family.

She admitted she would have never picked them, but she was tied to them for the rest of her life. They were the only ones who knew what it was to have forced cybernization. Because of this, she found herself attached to them.

* * *

Jet groaned and sat up. He looked over to see Albert sitting on his own bed, slumped forward. Jet slid his legs over the edge of his bed and faced the German cyborg.

"Were there any survivors?" he asked.

Albert smirked at him. "Come on. I need some coffee. You probably do too."

"Ow, my nose hurts. I should have thought twice about trying to keep up with you."

"You held your own. Besides, I have more cyborg parts then you. It helped me out."

Jet followed Albert into the kitchen. They both stopped at the doorway and stared at the table; Jet was amazed to see a full, hot breakfast laid out with warm coffee and cool orange juice.

"Well, what do you know? I thought she was mad at us," Jet said. Albert gave him a light smack on the shoulder and a smile.

"Just because she's upset with us, doesn't mean she doesn't care about our well being."

"Yeah, guess I should try to be a little nicer to her when she gets home tonight."

"Maybe we should actually clean the house?" Albert suggested as they sat at the table and served themselves breakfast.

"Aw, man, I was afraid you'd say that."

* * *

Jet helped Frances into the small prop plane and got in himself. He quickly got them into the air and headed east.

"Thanks for bringing me out," Frances said. She pushed her over-sized sunglasses higher on her nose. "And thanks for cleaning the house yesterday. I really appreciate what you and Albert did."

"Well, thanks for breakfast yesterday. Even though... I've been a chump lately. Too bad Albert had work and Ivan had school."

"I know I haven't been as pleasant as I should. I have so much on my mind."

"Jean-Paul?" Jet asked, fumblingly with a switch.

"Yes. I haven't heard from him. What if..."

"That brother of yours is one far out cat. He can take care of himself. I'm sure he's just laying low."

"I hope so," she said, still looking worried.

"Hey, you know, we should all take a vacation."

"That's a wonderful idea. Maybe we could go skiing."

"Now that would something cool to do. I never, ever thought I would get a chance to do something like that."

"Then it's settled. Besides, I think Ivan can use a break. He's been studying so hard," Frances said.

"He's becoming a regular Poindexter," Jet agreed.

* * *

Albert loaded an icy crate on the back of a delivery truck. He turned towards the warehouse for another crate. He stepped inside the wide door and stopped in his tracks.

The rifleman was standing in a alcove with a handgun pointed at the foreman. Albert's foreman had his hands on his head, he was kneeling and trembling. Albert didn't miss the bloody lip and bruises.

"Let's try this again, 004," the mossy haired woman startled Albert, as she slid past his right. He flinched away and glared at her.

"What do you want?"

"Surrender now, or we'll turn this place into an abattoir," she said.

Albert's mind quickly cast about. He had to quickly get them out of the warehouse and away from possibly finding Ivan, Jet, and Frances.

"I'll go and not give you any trouble, but you leave everyone here alone."

"Fine," the woman said. "Ember, take 004 to our car. We'll pick up the twins and the oaf. Hopefully, they've subdued 001 by now. And you, fool," she addressed Albert's foreman, "forget this or we'll kill you."

The man nodded. Ember raised his handgun and pistol-whipped the man. He fell unconscious on the ground.

Albert's eyes narrowed. He knew Ivan was more stable, but there were still issues that Kozumi and Kaminari were working on. They visited Ivan every few weeks. He prayed Ivan could get the drop on the men.

He followed them to a dark sedan. He got into the back with the woman. The rifleman took up driving duties while she pointed the top of her walking cane to Albert's temple.

"Now, tell me where 002 and 003 are. Don't lie either, we know where the four of you have been living."

"I will never betray them. Take me back if you want, but you will never drag it out of me," Albert said.

"Listen, family man." Albert looked up to see Ember's reflection in the rear-view mirror. The man coolly lit a cigarette and then turned back to his driving. "Countess Yana can make your life a living nightmare. Best cooperate, because if she has to chase down those other two, she'll make them pay, along with you. Simple as that."

"Family man?" Albert asked.

Ember chuckled, the sound was almost friendly. "I know my own kind. You lost your wife, so you're trying to make another home. We've seen your house. Nice and cozy. You could have had the same set up on Island X. You're out of choices now."

"So, let's start again," Yana said in a sardonic tone. "Where are 002 and 003?"

"Forget it." Albert felt a painful jolt to his head. It stopped, but left him throbbing and slumping foreword. She jerked his head back by his hair.

"Tell us where they are."

* * *

Ivan felt something tingle behind his right eye. Just a faint sensation. He looked up and felt a compulsion to hit the boy sitting in front of him. Something inside of him longed to inflict pain on someone, anyone.

His eyes narrowed as he let his mind follow the strong sensation. He stifled a gasped when he probed the minds of the twins that had attacked them in Italy. He shivered as he read their minds; they were going to fire their guns off in the hallway and then tear up the school looking for him.

No, he wouldn't let that happen. He had to be careful; he couldn't show his abilities to the regular students. Suddenly, Ivan jerked backwards, then was knocked out of his chair. Chaos erupted around him as students stared at him. Some giggling, some had pity, and some had fear all for him.

He struggled to stand. Emotions were too thick for him to focus much, but he could tell they were approaching his classroom.

"Where are you going?" his teacher called out. He ignored her and jogged out of the classroom. He started weaving his way through the empty hallways.

"Come out, come out, where ever you are, 001!" one of the twins called from a hallway to Ivan's left.

Ivan's anger rose as he stumbled towards them. "I'm here. Leave them alone. Don't you dare shoot any of them."

The twins, lofting their guns, stood in the middle of the hallway. "We'll leave them alone..."

"...if you come with us."

"I'm not going back to them!"

"What about the others?" one of the twins asked.

"What do you mean?" Ivan gritted his teeth and struggled to read their minds, to no avail. Not only was he feeling fear, but their emotions were running on a high, so loud his brain throbbed. His terror, the memories of his father hovering over him with a bloody scalpel, was too heavy for Ivan to mentally push through. He cursed; in hindsight, he should have had the piece of his brain removed so he could function like a flawless machine.

"The countess and Ember already have 004..."

"...then we'll all head over and pick up 002 and 003."

"Don't you dare hurt them!" Ivan shouted in Russian, too confused to use any other language, barely able to remain standing. Waves of nausea hit him. Their desire to see Ivan suffer rose above the waves of panic at the thought of seeing his parents again. The twins' emotions brought him to his knees as their thoughts slowly blurred into one driving emotion within Ivan: self-loathing.

"Come with us now," one of them ordered as the other yanked him to his feet by his elbow.

"What's wrong with him?" the one that held Ivan's arm asked.

"Don't know. By all rights, he should be flinging us around."

"We'll hand him over to Yana and then she can trade him back to Gamo."

Despair hit Ivan as they dragged him through the bare hallways. When they had him out in the car, one of them pushed a cloth over his nose. He breathed in the heavy cloying oder and fell into darkness.

* * *

Frances paused as they walked towards the small rental house. She grabbed Jet's wrist. He looked down at her, baffled.

"Some people are in our house. I hear them breathing. Five heartbeats, besides Albert and Ivan's hearts."

"They found us," Jet whispered through clenched teeth, dragging Frances behind a tree. He peeked around the tree, but couldn't see anything. The curtains were drawn. He looked back at Frances; her eyes were closed and she was concentrating.

"It's the five that attacked us in Stresa; I can tell. Our uniforms and ray guns are inside the house. No doubt, they're waiting to ambush us."

Jet turned to Frances and gripped her upper arms. "Go sit in the truck and get it ready."

"But I can't drive."

"Just have it warmed up."

"What are you going to do?"

"Wing it," Jet said, handing her the keys before he jogged towards their home.

To be continued.


	13. Chapter 13

[Sorry this one took so long. I'm working on beta reading as well. The next chapter I'm hoping will be done within two days.]

Chapter 13:

Jet steeled himself and took a deep, steady breath. He slid up to the back door of the house and was happy to see a gap in the curtain. He could see their place was totally wrecked. Their possessions were strewn about everywhere and smashed. The man with the rifle leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping a mug of coffee, while the giant teenager sat on the tiled floor, whittling.

He could see a little beyond into the living-room. The mossy-haired woman paced slowly in front of the couch. Jet could tell Ivan was lying on the couch; he noticed the kid's shoes. What worried Jet was that he didn't see Albert or the whip-welding twins.

Obviously, they were waiting for him and Frances to come back home; no doubt, hoping for an ambush. His first thought was of getting Albert and Ivan out of there and keeping Frances away from them. His first impulse was to rush in and confront them, but Albert's expression of disapproval came to his mind. No, he would confront them, but he'd have to get them on turf he knew.

He smirked and gingerly got his flight log out of his leather jacket. He jotted a quick, simple note. Jet tucked it in a crack in the door and gave a quick knock. He activated his acceleration device and headed to the truck where Frances waited for him. He had her move from the steering wheel, stomped the gas, and headed towards the airstrip.

* * *

Ember lofted the note and walked over to Yana, who looked throughly irked. "Looks like 002 wants to play. It says, 'Come to the Harmon Airstrip twenty miles east of here. Bring Ivan and Albert with you and we'll talk.' He's thinks he can either set a trap, or bargain with us."

"Not a bad idea to strike a deal. It'll keep us from wasting a lot of time and resources. Besides, we have the upper hand." Yana tilted her head towards the chair Albert was bound to; he was barely conscious, one eye almost swollen shut.

The battered and bloody, altered German was stripped to the waist, a deep slit was under his ribcage to the left. A thin, red wire was buried in the slit. The other end trailed on the ground to a small, simple device in Yana's hand. She opened her palm and smiled at Ember.

"Twins!" The spiky haired duo came sauntering down from the attic room. She turned to them and pointed to unconscious Ivan with her free hand. "Take him to my airplane. Be careful and make sure he stays asleep. I don't know why he collapsed, but... if he wakes up, he can still be dangerous. Remember, success hinges on our control over the boy and getting 002 to come with us."

"Sure," Castor said. She could tell he wasn't taking her seriously.

"If 001 escapes, you will answer to Scar yourself. The Gamos want him back. I'm sure Scar wouldn't mind letting you talk it over with Mrs. Gamo. She's not the forgiving type. Neither is her husband."

Castor and Pollux looked more serious and a little disgruntled. She whirled towards Ember. "You'll drive. Oaf, grab 004. We'll go meet 002. He won't get the upper hand, this time."

"He's pretty tough," Ember reminded her.

She frowned with a sardonic expression. "This time, we'll bargain with him. Then, you'll capture 003. After all, there is no reason to keep promises to property. The Black Ghost wants his acceleration device, not to deal with rebellious ingrates."

Ember glanced around the trashed house and smirked. "Yeah, they have a nice little family going on right now. It'll play to our advantage. Let's get to it."

* * *

"Jet, they're on their way," Frances warned.

"Stay back and keep hidden."

"You're going to talk to them? How reasonable do you think they are going to be?"

"I'd fight them, but... damn it! They have Albert and Ivan. Listen, just tell me what I'm up against."

Frances peeked out of the hanger bay. Jet saw the look of concentration on her face. "In the car I see that large, young man sitting beside Albert. The man with the rifle and the lady are in the front seat. Oh no... where's Ivan?"

"Damn it! I told them to bring both of them."

"Jet! There's something wrong with Albert. It looks as if they've beaten him, but his body temperature is excessively high. I don't know why."

"Well, they can't outrun me. I'll be getting them to shoot their mouths off. Go up to the control room and wait for my signal. We need to find out where Ivan is, and I'm not going to mess around with these jerks. Remember, only drop the plan if I say so."

Frances nodded and scampered towards the metal staircase leading up to the second level of the hanger bay. She quickly ducked down out of sight. Jet's eyes drifted to the massive airplane frame dangling from several, bowing girders. He had spilled oil on the concrete floor so Frances would know when to yank the release leaver. He knew his plan was stupid at best, dangerous at worst.

He wasn't afraid to face them down in a fight. He was afraid of seeing the others harmed, and he was feeling a twinge of panic at the idea of being held by the Black Ghost again. He steadied his breathing as the car pulled up to the door of the hanger bay. He watched them get out of the car, the over-sized teenager dragging Albert with him. Jet was dismayed to see Albert wore no shirt, his artificial arm blatantly apparent. Albert was always so careful to keep it covered.

Jet couldn't hide the look of disgust he gave them after seeing Albert. The beating he had received was severe, and the German cyborg was shaky and unsteady on his feet. What concerned Jet was a gapping hole on Albert's left side that was oozing a thick, dark brown liquid.

"This is your meeting, 002. It's true we can't outrun you, so you appear to have the advantage over us. So, what is it you have to say?" Jet didn't like the patronizing tone the woman addressed him with. It bubbled up more hatred.

"Look! None of us are going back. Leave us alone."

"Leave you alone? But we have a lot at stake for retrieving two of you!"

Jet flinched back in surprise, and thought carefully about who was here and why they would talk with him rather than attack. "Oh, it's clear now. You have to take Ivan back. You brought Albert here, because he's not on you list. I don't think you'd bother with me, unless I had something to offer. What do you want?"

"The acceleration device prototype in your body is very valuable. The Black Ghost wants it back, along with 001. You'll find my offer quite reasonable. Surrender and come back with us. In exchange, my team will no longer pursue 003 and 004. We'll let them go free."

Jet crossed his arms and adopted a smirk full of bravado. He needed to test her so he asked, "What if I don't want to go back? What if I prefer saving my own skin? Then what are you going to do?"

She smile and leaned on her walking cane, giving him a look as if he were a slow child. "Two things. One, I activate 004's self-detonation device..." Jet couldn't keep the shock off his face, his blood drained away. "... oh... you weren't aware? It's enough to take out this whole city. Two, even if you and 003 escape somehow, 001 will be after you.

"The twins are on their way to hand 001 back to his father. Only this time, his father has wisely decide to give him a lobotomy, so he'll be perfectly obedient from now on. So you see? Not much you can do." She hoisted her walking cane and pointed the pink crystal topper at him; her charm bracelet gave a jingling sound, then she said, "Check mate."

"You let the kid go too!" Jet shouted.

"No, you and him. Take my offer or leave it."

Jet mulled over the possibilities in his head. If he just walked away with them, Albert and Frances would have a chance to escape, plus, he would have a chance to find Ivan and maybe free him again. After all, he did owe Ivan, big time. Images of his legs being taken from him nagged at the corner of his brain; he shoved those away as a wave of nausea hit. Albert's words of pride, the only ones Jet had ever received, drove away his anxiety. He refocused on the task at hand, getting them in a vulnerable state.

Still, this woman was a Black Ghost agent. He said, "So why should I trust you to be above board? I'm sure you're a liar."

"What choice do you have! Surrender now, or we leave 004 here and detonate him at a safe distance!"

"Fine!" Jet shouted. He gritted his teeth. "I'll go, but you free him first."

The mossy haired woman nodded to the giant. The giant yanked the bonds around Albert's wrists off and shoved him towards Jet. Jet quickly lunged forward and caught Albert before he stumbled and fell. Albert looked up and him and shook his head. "They'll kill you on the way there. They only need your body."

"I ain't goin' let it happen again. Besides, I still gotta find Ivan."

Albert nodded. "Frances?"

"Fine," Jet said. "We've got a really risky plan worked out." Albert gave him a faint smile.

"002! Enough! Get to our car!" the woman snapped.

Jet steadied Albert on his feet and turned to the woman. "You got me!" Jet gave her an arrogant smirk and waved his hands towards himself. "Now come and get me."

She marched forward over the spot Jet had marked on the floor. A sudden squeal and a shadow came hurtling down. Jet was shocked to see the giant teen move gracefully and quickly to shove the woman down and shield her with his body against the plane frame. He noticed the woman was, thankfully, knocked unconscious.

Jet push Albert behind him when he saw the rifleman level the long muzzled weapon. Jet flicked his molar-turned-acceleration-switch. Time seemed to pause around him as he ran over to the man. He flicked it again and time returned to normal as he swung his right fist into the man's jaw.

The man went reeling, just as Jet felt a crushing pressure to his shoulder blades. He lost his breath and sprawled on the floor. He struggled to breath as he turned on his side. The giant had snuck up on him, somehow. He watched the giant jump over the wrecked airplane frame with incredible agility. Jet gasped when he saw the giant teen was leaping towards the second level of the hanger bay.

"Run! Frances!" Jet yelled. He jumped to his feet but the rifleman leaped in front of him and punched Jet's cheek. Jet stepped back and adopted a fist-fighting stance. The man swung, but Jet ducked and sunk his left into the man's gut. The man grunted and brought his clenched fist down on Jet's back. Jet fell to the ground and rolled over on his back; he saw the barrel of a gun pointed at the bridge of his nose.

His mind went blank, before he flicked his tongue to his molar to escape, the rifleman stiffened, a shocked expression across his face before he collapsed on Jet. He quickly shoved the wounded man off and hopped to his feet. He whirled around to see Albert, laying on the ground, gun hand pointed towards where the rifleman was standing.

Frances's scream disrupted their locked eyes. Jet spun around and used his acceleration to get at the upper level. The giant teen had Frances's wrist in his beefy hand. He was starting to drag Frances to the door. Jet kicked aside a chair and shouted, "You leave her alone, King Kong!"

Jet rushed at the giant teen, right fist ready. Frances screamed, "Jet, no," but it was too late. He was committed to swinging upwards to the giant's chin. He was shocked when the giant side stepped and caught Jet by the throat.

He had no chance as the giant squeezed his neck. His world went dark, he scraped at the giant's hand, but to no avail. His limbs went heavy and he slumped, in spite of his burning desire to fight.

* * *

"Please... please... please let him go," Frances begged, as tears streamed down her face. Her hand was caught too tightly in the giant teen's fist, Jet's neck was caught in the other. The giant turned to her, a baffled expression on his face. "Please don't hurt him. I'll go with you. Just don't hurt him!"

"It's necessary that Countess Yana subdue him so she can free her husband. Without 002, and 001, she can't liberate herself. Also, Ember can't take his wife and daughter away. His child, she's just five, she's innocent and needs a chance to grow up without the Black Ghost's influence upon her psyche. She needs protection. Ember doesn't know it yet, but Dr. Gamo has plans for her because she has some abilities like his son," the giant spoke with a rich, deep voice. Frances only now noticed the intelligence in the eyes under shaggy, red bangs.

"Then you know the Black Ghost is evil! Why sacrifice Ivan to them, if you believe children need to be raised apart from them?"

"Because I do believe 001 needs to be destroyed, even though Miss Ember needs to live. 001 has great potential that could destroy the earth. He will start developing more and more talents. He will part himself from humanity, and forget what it's like to be flesh. One day in the future, he will try to make himself a god. Don't you see, his father will give him a lobotomy and rescue the earth from the danger he poses by unchecked power. Not Ember's daughter. She's too gentle."

"You're wrong!" Frances raged. More tears spilled. "Ivan is more human than you! He loves and is trying to save humanity from the Black Ghost! Listen, none of us need to be used by the Black Ghost. We could all work together. We could help Countess Yana and Ember get their families. You could be free too. We're all victims of them."

"Yes, true. We are all tools of the Black Ghost, whether we choose it or not." His amber eyes narrowed, and he leaned down to her face. He tossed Jet aside, without a second glance. "The sooner you learn your place, the better off you'll be."

She was stunned for a few seconds. "Wait! You don't want to work for them?"

"No. Ember is the only family I have, as is Countess Yana and the twins. I do want to make their lives better. If that means you people need to be subdued, so be it."

A fierce anger welled up inside her. "Ivan, Jet, and Albert are my family. I will continue to fight for our freedom."

The giant shook his head, she could detected a trace of sorrow before he said, "Then we will have enmity between us."

"It doesn't need to be this way," she sobbed, laying her forehead against the meaty hand around her fist. She felt his hand gently stroke the top of her head.

"Please... 003... Frances... don't try to curry my favor." The giant's expression grew soft. "Your tears are wasted on me. I have no loyalty except to making sure Ember's family is comfortable, and that Countess Manma Yana has a chance to enjoy a life with her husband."

"Then you know how I feel towards the other cyborgs! Why would you hurt me in the way you wouldn't want to be hurt?"

The giant shook his head and said, "I guess you don't understand, then, why I'm taking you back to the Black Ghost. It's all for the sake of family."

A cold, hard emptiness filled the pit of her stomach. She realized they were bonded as much as she was to the male cyborgs. The giant tugged her upward and stooped to grab Jet's wrist in his other hand. "Time to go, 003," he said, dragging them to the doorway.

She gasped when Albert jumped into the doorway, slumped against the door jamb, and raised his right hand. "Let them go."

"Countess had you under control," the giant said, looking baffled.

Albert had bits of plastic and electronics in his left hand. The giant looked as angry as Albert. The German man let the pieces fall through the fingers of his left hand and said, "You mean the remote to my self-detonation device? Gone. Listen, she's still unconscious and Ember is hurt. You have a chance to help them, if you hurry."

The giant teen moved towards the door with a dower expression, still dragging Frances and Jet with him. Albert moved his metallic hand up to the giant's nose and shook his head. "You won't be leaving with them."

Frances looked up, surprised as the pressure around her wrist was suddenly gone. She clutched her painful, tingling hand to her chest and watched the giant pass Albert.

"You won't avoid them forever. They will keep pursuing you until you surrender," his deep voice rumbled, as he walked down the metal staircase. Albert slumped forward, his right arm dropped like it was made of lead. Frances quickly got a chair and had Albert sit, then she knelt beside Jet's body on the floor.

She gingerly touched his bruised neck and was relieved to see a pulse. Frances lightly smacked Jet's chin and shook him slightly. "Jet! Wake up!"

He groaned and opened his eye. "What the... did you get the number of that bus?" he asked in English.

She about asked him what he meant, when she heard a car drive off. Jet hopped to his feet, staggered, and leaned against a table with radio equipment. "Damn! We have to go get Ivan!"

"Their plane is close by. We need to try," Albert agreed and got to his feet. Jet slipped off his leather bomber jack and handed it to Albert. The German man was able to finally cover his altered body.

Frances followed them to the truck. A wave of despair hit her. She couldn't think of any way to rescue Ivan. Her mind went to the darkest scenarios about what would happen to the Russian boy once back in his parent's clutches.

* * *

"Holy... Moses..." Jet mumbled, as they pulled up to where the private jet rested in the middle of a secluded area. The only thing was, it had been a plane; now, it was a flaming twisted wreck that nowhere resembled a plane.

At a distance, Jet could see the giant loading up the two twins in the back of the car he had driven away in. The giant teen's face was grim and angry. He looked up at them, and then jerked his head towards a tree several feet away, one that's top was already engulfed in flames.

"Ivan," Frances shouted in Jet's ear, franticly pointing to where the boy sat under the tree, totally still. Jet launched himself out of the truck and ran towards the tree. He was barely conscious of the sounds of their assassins getting away in the distance. He was two feet away from Ivan when he felt himself tossed backwards, almost into the truck. Jet shook off his shock and approached again, slower, and stopped at that point.

"Ivan, come on, you're about to burn! Come on. Let's go."

The boy fixed Jet with an empty expression and shook his head. Frances then scrambled up and knelt at that point. She tried reaching to him, only to have something block her hand in midair.

"Please, don't do this. We're still free!" she said.

The boy said something in what Jet knew to be Russian. Jet shook his head and said "Come on... you get up right now! I ain't playing around, kid!"

"Stop this! You'll never have to go back to those people. Just have some faith in us," Frances shouted. Ivan seemed to start a little. The the flames from the tree and the plane all died as a blue wave of light lapped over them.

Ivan rose to unsteady feet and Jet gasped. The artificial skin on Ivan's arms and around the collar of his shirt was marred by burns and gashes. His over-sized clothing was singed, torn, and stained with blood. Ivan got control of himself and walked over to them. Jet didn't have a hint of what the kid was thinking.

"Are you hurt?" Frances asked timidly.

"Let's go," Ivan said. They walked back to the truck where Albert leaned again the side. Ivan and Albert stood silently facing each other for several minutes. "You saved me. What you've said before about loosing your wife, and the example of what you've been living through, has shown me how need to live. You have such dignity through it all. Thank you."

Albert nodded. "You know, if you had to kill those men, it's not your fault."

A wide-eye flash of terror crossed Ivan's face, then he appeared not so lucid, as if he were on a high. Next was crushing shame, which Jet had never seen Ivan express before. Ivan shook his head and whispered, "I did something far worse to them than kill them."

Jet shivered a little at the pronouncement. He couldn't even begin to imagine what Ivan had done, but judging by Ivan's severe attitude, it must have been a truly repulsive nightmare.

It was Albert that reached out and patted Ivan on his shoulder. "Come on. We've got to get moving. This town isn't safe."

* * *

They reached the airport in Melbourne two days after their attack. They had all been very silent the whole trip. Everyone had withdrawn into themselves, their concentration was on self-preservation. It was Jet that broke their dazed muteness with a volatile fit of vandalism that didn't take Frances off guard like she thought it would.

The minute they pulled up to a deserted wing of the airport, Jet hopped out of the driver's seat and spun around, looking for something. The other three got out of the truck, but Jet lunged at the truck. With a powerful growl, he punched the truck's door. His cyborg muscle knocked it clean inside the cab with a sickening crunch.

He balled up his fists and slammed hard into the hood of the truck. It squealed and crumpled down, scraps and steam flew everywhere; it cause Frances to step back, bumping into Albert's chest, Ivan sank to his knees. She found herself sharing Jet's disappointment and ire as he kicked the wrecked truck so hard it tumbled on its side.

Jet fell to all fours, panting. He shook his head and looked up at them. "We'll never be rid of them."

"So now are you willing to hear me out? Now do you understand?" Ivan asked, crossing his arms. Frances looked down at him with curiosity. "We have to fight against them, not run from them."

"All I want is to leave. Don't talk to me about that crap, kid," Jet said, standing again. He went over to Albert and let the man lean on him. "We need to get to Kaminari."

"As you wish," Ivan said. Cool azure surrounded them. Frances gasped as she realized they were in a totally different place. She barely had enough time to catch Ivan before he collapsed on the cobblestone street.

To be continued.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14:

"There. _G. Kaminari_," Frances said, doing her best to support Ivan. The morning was sweltering, unlike where they had been one minute ago, a cold, dark night in Australia. It was very disconcerting to Frances, but she knew they were safe, for now. Plus, there was humidity everywhere around them. The heavy scent of the sea lingered strong in Frances's sharp awareness.

"That house?" Jet asked.

"Villa. I hear Italian being spoke in a market a little ways down the street," she replied.

"Oh great," Jet grumbled, shifting Albert under his arm and marching across the street. Frances felt a blush on her face, seeing Jet kick at the door. She kept glancing about in worry. Finally, the young electronics engineer came to the door; a shocked look hit his face.

"You people don't look so good. Come in before all of Palermo knows you're here."

"Palermo? You mean we're in Sicily?" Jet asked, darting in the vine covered townhouse with Albert. Frances followed with Ivan and managed to shut the door.

"Very good," the man said, with a hint of sarcasm. Jet looked irritated, but too exhausted to make a tart response. The man lead them up three flights of stairs to an attic laboratory. Frances shivered, remembering an old horror movie Jean-Paul had taken her to. It had high ceilings with wooden beams, cobwebs all over the stone walls, tables with electronics everywhere, and in the middle of the room was a metal table.

Kaminari nodded to the table and said, "Put him up there so I can get a good look at him."

Jet complied. Albert took a deep breath and opened his eyes. "Kaminari?"

"One and the same. What's wrong with the kid?"

France sat him in a chair and checked his vitals. He was ice cold, which meant he was in deep sleep. Frances turned to Kaminari and said, "He'll be fine. He just needs to rest."

The man nodded and rolled up his sleeves. "Alright then. Get out so I can work."

"But..."

"Gilmore and Kozumi may not mind, but I do. Now get lost," Kaminari said. "There's food in the kitchen. Nothing good. I'm a lousy cook." The man was now inspecting Albert's eyes.

Frances grabbed Jet's elbow; his eyes were glued to Albert. The German man gave Jet a smirk and waved his metallic, right hand weakly. "Go eat and get some rest. I'll be fine."

"That self-detonation de..."

"Jet! That's my own affair. Now go," Albert said, in a low, icy tone. Frances tugged Jet with her out the door. She lead him to the kitchen and found some lukewarm porridge and apples. They sat in silence and ate with no complaints.

"After we fix Albert up, we've got to figure out how to get some cash, lots of cash, and move. You know, Montana is a big state, or maybe someplace in South America, until we can make a solid plan," Jet said.

"You heard what Ivan said. They'll keep after us. We have no way to just earn money without staying in a place long term. We have to figure out how to make a living without staying in a place for very long."

Jet slammed his fist on the table and glared at her. "I know that, but I'm not going to run from them any longer! I have the start of an idea. I need to sleep on it, though."

"I'm so tired," she agreed. "When Albert and Ivan get well, we need to decide what to do."

Jet actually helped Frances with the dishes. They walked into Kaminari's parlor; they pulled the drapes after looking around the street. Very few people were about, to their relief. Frances watched Jet flop in an armchair and fall asleep. She couldn't resist any longer. She slumped on a settee and quickly fell asleep, too.

* * *

Albert sat up on the table and stretched. Kaminari handed him a loose, white, linen shirt and dark brown slacks. He put the shirt on and slid off the table. Next the slacks. "So everything is the same?"

"Yes, are you sure about that big bomb in your chest?"

Albert paused and then nodded slowly. "It won't set well with the others. I didn't want them to ever know about it."

"Too late, now. But, it's your choice," Kaminari said. "By the way, you'll want to rest a few days. Your organic parts will need time to heal. Plus..." Kaminari jerked his thumb over his shoulder to where Ivan was slumped in a chair. "I think he needs to rest. I'm going to check to see he hasn't gone and messed up my work. May need to give Kozumi a call."

"Fine," Albert said.

Albert helped Kaminari get Ivan on the table, and turned to leave before he had to watch the man tinker around in Ivan's brain. He quietly walked downstairs and found them in the parlor, both asleep. He looked between them and finally got an afghan off the back of the settee.

He dragged it over Frances and turned to Jet. He gingerly shook Jet's shoulder, because he knew better than to startle the redhead awake, especially since his jaw was clenched and his eyelids were twitching.

Jet inhaled and sat up, ramrod straight. His blurry eyes looked confused. Albert jerked his head towards the staircase; Jet followed him up to the second floor. Albert peeked behind a few doors and then lead Jet through a bedroom towards French-doors. Albert cracked them opened and walked out onto a balcony. Jet followed and closed the French-doors.

Albert glanced around; he judged it to be late afternoon. He chose the balcony because it faced a secluded courtyard with a fence high enough to protect them from prying eyes. He sank to the floor of the balcony; Jet sat beside him and fished in his pocket. He flicked a cigarette out towards Albert and got himself one.

"Thought you'd quit."

"Screw that, man," Jet mumbled, reaching over to light Albert's cigarette first, then his own. He took a long drag and gave a half cough.

Albert had a question burning in him since they had faced down the assassin cyborgs. "Jet, I need to know, would you have gone with them if there were no choice?"

Jet's face squished up, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, and then shook his head as if he were utterly exhausted. "Yeah... I would. And would you have killed that guy who was going to shoot me?"

Albert felt cold in the pit of his stomach as he nodded. "Yes. I did it, and would do it again without hesitation."

Jet was ill at ease; he raised his knees to his chest and wrapped his lanky arms around his legs. He took another puff as his face colored. He took the cigarette between his fingers and pointed them at Albert. "Listen, I'm tired. I'm working shit out in my head, so get off my ass. We have things we need to get straight."

Albert nodded in agreement before taking a drag on his cigarette. "Staying in one spot is risky. We need to be on the move. All the time," he said in German.

"Which comes to the question of money. I think I have a plan about that and something else, but I want to talk to Ivan first," Jet replied in flawless, reflexive German.

"We need to stay here a few days. I'm too tired, and Ivan isn't up to it."

"Yeah, I know, but we need to get on the move soon."

"You're contemplating something Frances wouldn't like?"

"You could say that," Jet confirmed, and then adopted a dower expression. "It would be for her own good." Albert took a deep breath and found himself trusting Jet, in spite his better judgment.

Albert noticed Jet shiver, then Albert realized dusk was setting. He ground out his cigarette and enjoyed the companionable silence between them.

* * *

Albert sipped a rich, black coffee as he watched Frances, Jet, and Giuseppe Kaminari eat their porridge. He could hear birds tweet outside in the trees a few feet away from the house.

"How much longer? He's been at it all night," Jet grumbled.

"Do you want him to rush?" Kaminari answered.

"No, but dang! I want to get out of here. We've been cooped up for two weeks now. I want to get our of here before..."

"Jet," Albert snapped. He had tried to be patient with the older teenager, but Jet was getting more disquieted as the days stretched on. It only wore on Albert's own frazzled nerves. Frances, on the other hand, had withdrawn and had barely eaten lately, which worried Albert, but he had no idea how to approach her without invading her privacy too much.

A creak on the stairs towards the kitchen interrupted Albert's thoughts. It was Ivan with Doctor Kozumi; the doctor put his hand on Ivan's shoulder and continued to guide him to the table. Ivan was drained and shaky.

"I thought you'd still be asleep," Frances said softly, almost absently.

"Kozumi helped me out because this is an extraordinary circumstance. I only have two hours. We need to make some decisions rather quickly," Ivan said at the table next to Kozumi.

"Okay, so I have some questions. Have you been in touch with Gilmore?" Albert asked.

"No. I do intend to monitor the Black Ghost through him while I sleep this next time." Albert didn't miss the weary slump in Ivan's shoulders or the dark circles under his heterochromatic eyes.

Albert also didn't miss Frances reaching for Ivan's hand, resting on the rough-wood table, but he flinched away. Kozumi gave a brief cough and settled at the table. "I predict he'll need about eight more days of rest."

"Then tell us what you know, Ivan," Albert prodded.

"I do know that they are very upset with the assassins. I think they went rogue for their own reasons. Now, I doubt life will continue for them much longer. I've seen..." Ivan suddenly clenched his eye shut and violently shook his head. "I'm sure they're dead by now."

"We need to figure out what's going on, and if they can still have others pursue us," Albert said. Ivan nodded.

"We don't need to stay in one place for a long time," Jet added. "It's too dangerous. That's obvious." He turned to Ivan and asked, "Can you come up with a list of all the assholes in the Merchants of Death and the Black Ghost? I mean... I want where they live, eat, and shit."

"Give me a while submerged in Gilmore's consciousness. I'll get it for you, and I think I know where you're going with this idea."

Jet smirked and waved his hand in the air. "Thought you could read my mind any time," he mocked.

Ivan shook his head. "Not now. I'm just fighting to stay awake. I can't use any of my abilities right now. Even my new one."

"New one?" Frances asked. Albert felt the same sense of trepidation he saw in her aqua-colored eyes.

"How do you think that plane caught fire?" His answer was in a flat, cold tone.

Jet asked, "So, you can set fires with your mind?"

Frances and Jet exchanged nervous expressions after Ivan nodded. He said, "Back to what we need to discuss. Jet, I believe you want to strike them first, before they can pursue us again. Am I correct?"

"Yes, it's what you'd been preaching over the last year. You know..." Jet slammed his fist on the table and glared. "I finally made something of myself! I did something I could proud of, and they took it away! It wasn't enough to take my body and twist it, but then they won't even let me have my own say? They need to learn what it's like to live in some fear." Jet shrugged and frowned. "I'm not talking about doing something evil, but I am saying they owe us a living."

"Say it plainly, Jet." Albert leaned forward, scrutinizing him.

"I'm saying we find out where some of these guys live and then we hit their houses for what we can. Most of these guys have to be rich. We take what we can and stay on the move."

"Now I know they've driven you crazy." Frances' voice was low and icy, full of bitter spite. "You have a death wish, and I don't want you around us when they come after you."

"What do you suggest?"

"Not antagonizing them!"

"Stop fighting," Albert said with a heavy sigh. "You do have a point. I don't think we can ever hide from them. It would be pointless."

"But, Albert..." Frances' shrewish voice grated on him as much as Jet's willingness to fall into turpitude. He glared at her.

"It'd be nice if we lived in an ideal world. You'd be on stage and a ballerina, if it were. Jet is right that we need to find a way to make a living..."

"Told ya'..." Jet gloated.

Albert fixed him with a glare next, "...but we must find a way where we can all look ourselves in the mirror the following morning. These men in the Black Ghost and the Merchants of Death may be men. Those women and children are more than likely to be innocent. I refuse to be a party to harming anyone's family or the private property that provides for the families of these men."

Just as Jet's mouth opened, Ivan shook his head and bolted out of his chair. He said, "That's where my idea will come in as a useful compromise. Rather than being petty break-in artists, we need to locate items the Black Ghost craves, along with monies being funneled to them from legitimate businesses to their research. These things will provide for us a lot more and harm them in effective ways."

"Now that's more like it," Jet said with a broad smile.

"I'm still not sure, but I will think about it," Albert said.

"That's all I ask," Ivan replied. "When I sleep, I'll scout for a likely target."

Frances stood up and shook her head. She turned slowly and walked out of the kitchen.

"Whatever," Jet mumbled and crossed his arms.

"I'll talk with her," Albert assured Jet in a whisper, "but do not antagonize her. She'll just dig her heels in."

Jet nodded, and then they finished their breakfast.

* * *

"So, my dear, what did he do to them?" Fyodor asked his wife after the amethyst glow faded from her eyes, and she lowered her hand from the forehead of the twin on the left operating table. They both were staring at the ceiling, while they twitched and drooled.

She turned with a grim face that slowly turned into a proud smile. "Our son's talent has surpassed our expectations."

"What did he do to the twins?"

"As you know, they have a strong telepathic connection with each other. Not useful for espionage or any real missions because they can't use it on others... I guess useful for body-guarding," she said with heavy scorn. "Anyway, they were born with this connection and haven't known anything else. Ivan severed their telepathic link. It would be far crueler than taking a knife and carving out their eyes. They know what they had, and their minds keep trying to reestablish it, however, he's locked their minds into an endless loop of isolation."

Fyodor Gamo smiled slowly. "Incredible. Can you fix them?"

She gave a slight frown. "I must admit... Ivan's talent is beyond what I've seen. Maybe my sister, Katarina, but..."

"...she's been two decades in an insane asylum," Fyodor finished in minor annoyance. "I know, Erika, I know. I fear Ivan will succumb to her fate if we don't find him soon and correct him."

They turned when the door opened. Doctor Gilmore stepped in and nodded; Fyodor glared at the Jewish man. He hadn't trusted him since he showed back up after the escape of the Double Zero Cyborgs.

"Scar is ready for your report, Mrs. Gamo," Gilmore said; a frown crossed his face.

"Good! I want the chance to confront that incompetent woman!" Erika snapped. They followed Gilmore down the hallway. Fyodor kept glancing at Gilmore's intense expression. The younger scientist had been more secretive about his work and had been seen in parts of the complex he really wasn't associated with. Then again, Uranus and Gaea had been lurking about as well; he didn't trust the pair of Greek scientists any more than Gilmore. Fyodor made a mental note to ask Erika to spy on the trio as they entered Scar's throne room.

He wasn't surprised to see Manma Yana, Jager Ember, and the redheaded oaf all standing there in handcuffs. He knew it was a joke to have the oaf cuffed. The giant teenager had a very minor telekinesis that helped increase his own agility, speed, and strength, however he couldn't affect objects around him like Ivan or Erika.

Fyodor was surprised, however, to see Count Noboru Yana here. The man had been assigned to a station at Antarctica, some research with artificial intelligence, but Fyodor heard rumors that it was all a lie. The Japanese man leaned on a walking cane with a blank expression. He smoothed his mustache, while staring at his shoes.

It hit Fyodor how serious the situation was when he saw the young mother with her five-year-old daughter clinging to her neck. The woman was trembling in the corner as the girl sobbed subtlety. Fyodor knew, more than likely, they wouldn't walk out of this room alive.

_:Darling, I'm so angry at loosing Ivan. I want them to pay:_

_:So do I, Erika. Do as you wish; I'll support you.:_ He concentrated carefully, being a non-physic, but he knew Erika could read his mind with ease.

_:With what happened to those twins, I'd say our son finally has inherited something from you. Your sadistic side is showing. :_

He glanced at Erika's glowing eyes and smirked, stroking his thick, black beard. _:So is yours.:_

"Gamos! Report!" Scar tossed back a corner of his cape and turned his eerie face towards them. They both gave a slight bow, but it was Erika who approached.

"It would seem 001 has destroyed their telepathic link. There is no fixing it. They are no longer of any use to you, Lord Scar."

"So, Countess, it would seem you've also cost me two agents as well as the Double Zero Cyborgs. My instructions were to observe, not engage! Now they're lost. I warned you what the penalty would be."

"Wait, Lord Scar! We saw an opportunity to regain them for you," she said rapidly, her breathing irregular.

"You lie," Erika said. She turned to Scar. "She and Ember were planning on keeping the cyborgs for themselves, so they could gain leverage over you. He was complicit, as well. For that, I ask a favor."

"Make it quick," Scar said. Erika walked over to Ember's young wife and pried the little girl from her.

"No! Please..." A guard grabbed the young mother and restrained her before she could take her daughter back from Erika's arms. The girl was screaming and thrashing now as Erika walked over to Jager Ember and glared up at the sharpshooter.

"You lose my son, now you lose your daughter," Erika said. She then swirled and left the room. Gamo smiled after his wife; she was certainly a woman he had learned never to cross.

A muffled gunshot startled him; the woman's sobbing was no more. Fyodor glanced over to confirm that Scar had shot Ember's wife in the head. He then glanced at Ember, utter grief crossed his face, tears streaming down his cheeks. The sharpshooter wisely said nothing.

"Please, Noboru, I made a mistake. I can fix this. I can find them again." Manma Yana's face was controlled on the surface, but her eyes were desperate. The Count walked over to his wife and finally met her eyes.

"You've betrayed everything I've worked for."

"I did it for you... for us... I did it so I could build our dream house. One where you can make your dreams a reality."

"My dream is building the Black Ghost into something noble that saves humanity from itself. I am loyal to them, unlike you. If you aren't loyal to them, then you have no loyalty to me," the Japanese scientist said before he turned and left Scar's thrown room.

"Noboru! Noboru! Don't leave me! I am loyal to you! I did everything for you! It was all for you!" Scar stopped Yana's raging with a strong backhand to her face.

"Kill us then," Yana said low, now in control again.

"This won't be quick, like death. Your punishment will be legendary." Scar turned to Gamo and said to him, "Take all five and put them in cryogenic sleep. They can dwell on their mistake for the next twenty years as their bodies atrophy!"

Gamo smiled and bowed slightly, "It'll be as you wish."

Gamo turned and was startled to see Gilmore perched behind him, a shrewed look in those blue eyes. "Why don't I help you, Fyodor?"

"I appreciate it," he said. Soon they had the five assassins under sedation and strapped down on operating tables. He was very intent on preparing the plastic tubes of chemicals; one of the tops wouldn't tear easily. He jerked around at the sound of a slight, metallic scrape.

Gilmore stood holding a scalpel, his eyes were unfocused. Gamo flinched back slightly and snapped, "Isacc? What the hell are you doing?"

Gilmore paused and looked at the scalpel. The younger scientist took a deep breath, looking a little chagrined. "Umm... you need some help with that?"

"Yes... thank you," he answered, handing over the plastic tube.

Gilmore gave him a stiff smile and said, "You're very welcome."

To be continued.


	15. Chapter 15

[Okay, all, I'm putting in my OC family, the Kitagawas. I created them for a Weiss Kreus fanfiction, and I thought they'd be perfect for a guest appearance here; I needed some really nasty people that will tie Joe into the story later down the line in a meaningful way. I figured why not use them again in a different category, because they were too good to waste... all my Weiss Kreus buddies loved to hate them. I hope all of you despise them just as much as they did (Hey, Laurose, enjoy! You know you wanted to see Hitomi show up again!)

They gave Ken Hidaka (from Weiss Kreus) a whole mess of trouble in my stories: Spring Fever, Summer Rain, Autumn Leaves, and Winter's Regret. They're going to end up messing up Joe's world and really be instrumental in push him towards the Black Ghost about four decades down the road. Well, here goes...

By the way, this story is going to be longer than I had planned just to make sure it's done right. The Second Generations won't pop up for another chapter or two. I think you'll see why after reading this part. I hope you enjoy the ride.]

Chapter 15:

"Can we talk?" Albert asked her. She looked up from her knitting and realized it was almost midnight. The parlor was empty except for the German man sitting at the rickety old harpsichord. He sat on the small bench with a large decanter of tart, red wine and a mostly empty glass. Albert drained it and set it aside.

"Of course," she said, rapidly continuing her stitches. She was grateful Kaminari's elderly neighbor-lady was a bored widow who loved to knit, crochet, and cross-stitch. It was at least something to take her mind off of her situation.

"You haven't spoken to us in days. Ivan's going to wake up tomorrow, so we should try to figure something out."

"What is there to talk about? You, Jet, and Ivan seem to have plans on how you want to live your lives. What could I say to possibly change your minds?"

"It's not that I want to do this," Albert said. "But you know the Black Ghost need to be stopped. That's the important thing. Also, the world isn't big enough for us to hide. They're everywhere."

"I know," Frances snapped, as she dropped a burgundy-colored stitch. She scowled and started jerking at the thread as Albert looked up at her. She paused at seeing his somber expression.

"My life was changed through faults of my own and these men. If I don't use what I have, now, against them, I may as well surrender to them. There are innocent people out there, like you, who could be next. Ivan says they won't stop. They have plans for more cyborgs."

Frances nodded slowly, trying to swallow in spite of her choked feeling. He stood up, walked across the room, and sat next to her. He took a deep breath before saying, "I know Jean-Paul's strong sense of right and wrong are in you. I know you're brave. Please tell me what's bothering you. It's more than just stealing from them."

Frances, rather than a reflexive denial, started knitting again. Her mind went to Jean-Paul; she couldn't help but wonder if the Black Ghost had found him. She also took a deep breath and could imagine a disdainful look in her brother's aqua-colored eyes at her behavior over the last few days.

"Albert, it isn't the morality of stealing that's bothering me right now. It's just that I don't find it a good idea to do this to satisfy Jet's craving for revenge."

Albert chuckled. "I thought you knew him better than that. Don't get me wrong, he wants to get back at them. You have to understand he's the type of young man that needs to take action when he sees something that's wrong. Everything is personal to him, because when he was a child, he couldn't do anything about the horrible things around him. It's built a lot of resentment and anger inside of him. It's not just the Black Ghost for him. It is about seeing justice happen. It's just that..." Albert leaned over and whispered, "...he doesn't have the appropriate words to express himself. He's too jaded, and yet too young, to make himself vulnerable enough to talk about his fears of going back to the Black Ghost. To him, he'd think himself weak."

Frances smirked as Albert leaned back on the settee. All she said was, "You men."

"I know." He smirked back, but then his expression darkened again. "I am uncomfortable with involving you in this. I'm thinking you should stay behind."

"I do realize this could harm the Black Ghost and slow them down."

"So, are you seriously thinking of joining us?"

"I'll talk openly about what is bothering me. I've had time to think about it." She watched Albert get up and pour himself another glass of wine, before sitting beside her again. She shook her head at an offer to pour her some. "It's just that I've lost so much. So have you, Jet, and Ivan. We'll be risking so much, our lives, our freedom." Frances held up her hand to silence him. "And don't doubt that I wouldn't be willing to risk those things to save someone else this same fate. I worry about us being back under their influence. God forbid they get their hands on Ivan. They could twist him and use him as a weapon. That goes for all of us."

Albert scowled slightly and slowly shook his head. "Ivan's not doing well right now. He's too intelligent, and that means he needs a purpose to keep him stable. I want you to know, this won't be forever. I promise it won't." Albert's lips twisted into a sour expression. "I know I haven't kept all my promises, but this one, I will."

Frances gave him a smile and set aside her knitting. She laid her hand on top of his left, mostly flesh hand and squeezed it slightly. "So long as we can do some good, I'm willing to help."

"We'll stop them from doing this again, Frances."

"You're sounding more optimistic than I'm used to. And talkative, too."

She shivered at the dry tone when he said, "I have to be."

* * *

Gilmore gave a wide smile to Gaea as the bearded, Greek scientist walked into the biochemist's laboratory. "Excellent progress, Demetri, on the muscle enhancements. With these changes, we can increase a person's strength five times."

"I won't be happy until it's ten times," the man grumbled and took a seat on a stool beside Gilmore. The man frowned. "Anyway, there are more budget cuts."

"Don't worry about that. So long as we keep producing, we can sell our discoveries to supplement the Black Ghost. I have every confidence."

"You are right. Did you see what Dressler came up with?"

"You mean Otto? No, what?" Gilmore asked, his eyes darted around.

"He took Ember's brat and aged her," Gaea whispered, a gleam came to his dark eyes as Gilmore fought to keep the horrified expression off his face. Gaea frowned, "But it only worked to a point. She now looks about twelve or so all with in three weeks! It's what that loon Erika Gamo wanted, anyway. The catch is that she's still just five-years-old in her mind."

"Which should have been expected," Gilmore finished.

"Yes, but don't you see? You can train the children and there would be no memories of their past to interfere with their loyalties. You could make them perfect, unlike those idiotic Double Zero Cyborgs. Who's idea was it to let them keep their memories, anyway?"

"Mine! How do you expect a cyborg to function without past knowledge and experience? If you make a clean slate of the mind, you'll have no way to use them effectively."

"Don't get so uptight, Isaac. Looks like I'm right, anyway. No Double Zero Cyborgs around here, hun? If you would have listened to me..."

Gilmore fixed him with an icy glare. "I would insist on the same, again and again."

"Well, what Uranus and I are working on will make cyborgs more efficient. They are machines of war."

"I'm not forgetting it! Wait... what are you and Uranus working on? I thought you two were taking a hiatus."

"Yes, but, Dressler's growth formula, and it's success, inspired us to find two new test subjects." Gaea took a photo out of his tweed jacket and handed it to Gilmore. Two children, one a redheaded little boy, the other a raven-haired little girl, were in the picture. They both looked starved, dirty, and scared. "We just bought them from Hondo Kitagawa. He had a two for the price of one special. Plus, his brother-in-law, that Takuma Shimamura, agreed to a, let's call it a private loan, to bankroll our project."

Gilmore handed back the photo, fighting down his rage. "The electronics guru? That Takuma Shimamura? Isn't he in with some shady business?"

Gaea waved his hand and said, "No, you got them wrong. It's Kitagawa that's the gangster. He's into everything from slavery, drugs, guns, murder. You name it, that man has done it, but he keeps a clean appearance. To the public, he looks like a benevolent bank president. That wife of his is still a popular, Japanese movie actress, so he needs to keep up appearances for her."

"But both Kitagawa and Shimamura are Merchants of Death?" Gilmore asked, forcing a half-smile to his face.

"Now, Issac, you know we aren't allowed to discuss who holds the purse strings."

"Aw come on, Demetri. It's just us," Gilmore said, looking back into his microscope. "You and Gregory have been so tight lipped. You know if Scar catches on..."

"Alright! Yes, they're both members, but you didn't hear it from me. And don't go spreading it around," Gaea threatened.

"Oh you know me, I'm just a bit nosy," Gilmore said.

"Anyway, I'm hungry. Uranus is meeting me for lunch."

Gilmore looked at his watch. "It's kind of late for lunch."

"We've been avoiding Erika Gamo. That ugly witch is everywhere. I think she's on to us."

"Well, let me join you and Gregory. I'm famished myself. Time has slipped away."

"Sure thing," Gaea said, hopping off the stool.

Gilmore followed the Greek scientist out of the lab and clearly formed the thought, _:Is that what you needed?:_

_ :Get them to talk about where one of them lives, preferably Kitagawa.:_

_ :No problem, Ivan. By the way, how are the others?:_

_ :Doing well. Doctor Kaminari is taking good care of us.:_

Gilmore allowed himself a smile. _:Tell him he had better.:_ Gilmore then elbowed Gaea and asked, "So I head those Kitagawa's are rich. I bet they have a nice country home."

"Oh yes. Gregory and I met him in his personal library. Beautiful mahogany furnishings. The house it just north, a thirty minute drive from the airport. It was close by the ocean. However, he's still in Switzerland doing business."

"Really?" Gilmore was silent as he followed Gaea down the hallway.

_:That's great for our location. Could you find out more about Kitagawa?:_

_ :Uranus is more of a gossip. Listen in and we can find out more.:_

* * *

"Our target, Hondo Kitagawa, is rather close. In Switzerland. It's a good opportunity to confront him far away from his home and family. He'll be dealing with large quantities of money and some illegal things."

Albert watched Ivan pace in front of him, Jet, and Kozumi. It was early dawn in the parlor, but the drapes had been drawn so tight that Albert couldn't shake off his grogginess.

"Wait a minute. You mean Hondo Kitagawa the banker?" Kozumi asked.

"That's the one," Ivan confirmed.

"Oh... his wife is quite famous in Japan. She's a very attractive actress. They have a nine year old son," Kozumi said.

"They won't be here," Ivan said. "They'll be in Japan. She's in some new film."

"Good. Now, say we take his money and run? What's to keep him from coming after us? Or sending Black Ghost after us? He's a Merchant of Death and will have some sway over them," Albert asked.

Ivan's face grew more dower. "He'll be busy in jail by the end of it. The reason I picked him is that he'll be very vulnerable. We hit him near his Switzerland safe house. Then, we call the police. When the police get there, they'll be more concerned with Mr. Kitagawa than us."

"Yes, but this will give away our position," Albert asked. "What's our get-away plan?"

"Easy. Not even Erika can track me after I teleport. I'll save most of my energy until the end and move us wherever you chose."

"Anywhere?" Albert prompted. He avoided looking at Jet's bored expression as Ivan nodded and continued to pace. He could feel the redhead start to fidget, though. "Alright, how many men does he travel with?"

"Just three. They'll be armed. The safe house typically has eight regular people there in various capacities."

"So we confront Kitagawa as he's driving to his safe house. Then we make him take us to his safe house, take the currency there, and call the police?" Albert asked.

"That's the general plan. He'll have only regular bodyguards. No psychics or cyborg enhancements. If we're careful, it should be no problem," Ivan said.

"Let's get to it," Jet said, hopping off the settee.

"Frances isn't ready yet," Albert pointed out.

"How much longer?"

"Kaminari said only an hour. He'd been working on his project, and it happens to fit nicely with Frances's abilities. We can't go in without every advantage," Ivan said. "She's not..."

A knock at the door froze them all. Kozumi was the one who hopped up and shooed the rest of them into the kitchen. Ivan sat at the table with a subtle smile, his eye glowing a bright blue. Albert and Jet peeked around the door frame, watching Kozumi answer the door. The man accepted the large, brown package and closed the door. The Japanese man set down the package as Jet and Albert walked over.

"It's from Gilmore, addressed to Kaminari. What is it?" Kozumi asked.

"It's actually for us," Ivan replied, joining them. "It's replacement uniforms and guns. We'll need them, if we're going to start hitting them back."

"Never thought I'd be glad to put that thing on," Jet said, ripping into the box. "Look, everything is here."

"Now we get Frances and travel over to Switzerland," Albert said, hoisting up one of the ray guns. "Kozumi, you had better get back to Japan. We'll let you know what happens."

"Well, good luck."

* * *

"Here's the spot," Ivan said. Albert pulled the borrowed car over and looked in the rear view mirror. Frances and Ivan where in the back, dressed in their green and blue uniforms. Frances appeared nervous, however Ivan looked apathetic. Albert glanced over at Jet, also in his uniform. He flipped a coin over and over. His expression looked hard, determined, or angry. Albert couldn't decide which.

He tugged his black leather gloves off and tucked them behind his uniform's belt. He turned in his seat towards them all, feeling compelled to figure out their commitment. "Once we do this, there is no turning back. We're going to be waging covert warfare against the Black Ghost and Merchants of Death. As it stands, we could probably figure out a way to hide again, live life in the shadows, and try to make the best of it. If any of you want to not do this, now is the time to speak up. I'll understand."

"Let's do this. I want those clowns to pay," Jet snapped. "Besides, I'm no candy ass."

"You know I've waited for this moment," Ivan said. Albert turned his head to Frances.

She forced a smile. "Don't worry. I'm with you. I don't want them to get any stronger."

Albert reached over and patted her shoulder. "Jean-Paul would be proud of you."

She looked startled. "Kaminari's adjustments to my ears certainly have worked. Kitagawa is on his way. I can here every detail of his conversation. Sounds like there are only three men in the car. Yes! Three. I can even hear their heartbeat."

"Good girl. Come on. Let's go," Albert ordered. "Frances, get up the tree and stay covered. Watch our backs. Jet, get up in the sky. You'll stop them if they try to retreat from me or Ivan."

"Aye, aye, Captain Bligh," Jet smirked and launched himself into the night sky.

Albert shook his head at Jet's light sarcasm and mumbled, "You better not mutiny."

It was a very narrow, secluded road through some grassy hills. There was a flat spot with a few trees and a meadow. Frances was able to climb halfway up a twisted tree close by the road. Under the tree is where their car rested. Albert walked into the middle of the road with Ivan.

"Don't overtax yourself, Ivan," Albert warned as a distant motor interrupted the silent night.

"I won't. Our escape depends on it."

The moon was full and bright, giving an eerie glow to everything. A shadow briefly drifted over Albert, he looked up and felt a little more relaxed, seeing Jet high in the sky, ready to pounce. He knew Jet would put everything into this.

Albert turned towards where the car approached. He was a little surprised to see it didn't slow. Instead, a man hung out of the door's window and fired a gun. Albert didn't even flinch because a bluish haze was between him and the car.

The haze disappeared once Albert raised his hand. He fired his mechanical hand at the front tires of the dark sedan; they blew. The sedan went skidding and came to a jerky halt. Two men leaped from the car and opened fire on Albert and Ivan again.

Albert returned fire, and hit one in the legs. He crumpled as a third man from the car jumped out and tried running back the way they had come from. Albert watched Jet land and raise his ray gun at the man. "No you don't. Back over that way."

The other gunman raised his gun to fire at he and Ivan, again. Ivan stretched out his hand; the car levitated in a blue haze and was flung across the meadow. The gunman was so stunned that he dropped his gun and raised his hands. Jet shoved the third man towards Albert and Ivan; Albert perceived he was Kitagawa.

Jet smirked down at Ivan and said, "Show off."

"You are Hondo Kitagawa?" Albert asked.

"Who are you people? What are you?" Kitagawa asked, keeping his hands up.

"You're a Merchant of Death, and that's what matters in this encounter," Albert said.

"Come on. Get moving," Jet said, shoving the man down the road towards the safe house as Frances dropped down from the tree.

"Wait," Ivan said. He looked over at the unwounded gunman. "Sleep." The man felt to the ground. "The other one will be fine. Actually, a minor flesh wound. He's exaggerating because he's afraid of us."

Albert didn't miss Kitagawa's irked expression. The expression turned terrified when Ivan held out his hand to the car Albert had driven them in. Seconds later it went up into lapping flames.

After a few yards, Kitagawa said, "Listen, I can use people like you. I don't know how you know about the Merchants of Death, but I won't ask questions. Name your price."

"We have no price, mister, so just jam it," Jet said.

"I could do things for you. Just name it."

"Shut your mouth before you really piss me off," Jet snapped.

Kitagawa, to Albert's relief, was silent for the rest of the twelve minute walk. He didn't want to pry Jet off the man's throat. They paused within view of the house.

"There are three men in there. I can hear them gambling, but... I count eight more heartbeats. Very rapid, like... children? And crying..." Albert quirked his eyebrow at Frances and then turned to Kitagawa.

"Are there kids in the house?" Albert asked.

Kitagawa got a devilish gleam to his eyes and said, "That's merchandise."

"What do you mean?"

"The Black Ghost put in an order for some children to experiment on. Something about lack of memories and fostering more loyalty. I'm just filling the order."

"You son-of-a..." Jet didn't finish before slamming his leg into Kitagawa's stomach.

The man fell to ground, and Jet was about kick his head. Albert shoved Jet away from the man. "Enough! We need him for leverage."

"Now you see why I picked him," Ivan said.

"You should have told us," Frances said.

"I wasn't sure he was holding children as prisoners anymore. Just a rumor Gilmore overheard," Ivan said. "I know about the guns he's planning on supplying them."

Albert jerked Kitagawa to his feet and shoved the man towards the house. "Don't even flinch, or I'll let the hothead beat the shit out of you."

They walked to the house's back door. Albert peeked through the window to see the three men engrossed in poker around the kitchen table. They each had guns, but Albert was happy to see several empty cans of beer on the table.

"Ready?" he asked Jet. The redhead smirked as Albert drew his ray gun and set it to stun.

Jet kicked in the door and charged in with his ray gun. The three men try to jump up, but Albert hit one with his ray gun, while Jet punched the nearest one to the door. The third fell backwards, too drunk to even stand. The man raised his hands, just sitting helplessly on the linoleum.

"Well damn, that was no challenge. What a pack of chumps," Jet said, shaking his hand out.

"Tie them up," Albert ordered. Soon, Kitagawa and his three men were tied to the kitchen chairs by Jet and Albert.

"Albert, they're downstairs, but this is locked with an alarm system," Frances said, pointing to a keypad by the door leading to the basement.

"What's the code?" Albert asked.

"8367," Kitagawa answered.

"He's lying. I can tell. His vitals just spiked," Frances said. Kitagawa glowered at her.

"Tell us the truth," Albert demanded.

"I also smell gelignite below us. It could be set to explode if we go down there."

Albert grabbed Kitagawa by the shirt collar and got in his face. "You'd kill those kids and everyone else up here?"

"Just the kids and you four. It's rigged to go off after the wrong code is punched and the last step has pressure on it. The walls are pretty thick."

"No more games!" Albert squeezed harder. "Tell her the correct code."

"6783," he said, fighting for air afterwards. Albert glanced at Frances, who gave him a quick nod and punched in the code. The door made a clicking noise, and he released his grip on Kitagawa.

"Jet, go with her and bring the kids up here." They complied with his order silently. Moments later, several children in poor condition came stumbling upstairs between Frances and Jet. Albert could tell none of them was older than ten. Two girls around five-years-old were sobbing and clinging to Frances's hands; to Albert, she looked as if she were about to cry as well.

"Take them to the living room and make sure they're comfortable, Frances."

"This way," she murmured guiding the eight, terrified children. Albert didn't stop Jet from smacking Kitagawa in the head.

"You son-of-a-bitch," Jet snapped. The man glared up at Jet.

"Albert, his study has the money and some plans from his brother-in-law's electronics firm. We really need to burn those plans, along with getting the children to safety," Ivan reminded.

"Fine," Albert said. "Come with me, while Jet babysits these boys."

Ivan followed him to the study. A small safe rested in a corner behind the thick, mahogany desk. The study was littered with old, leather books. Albert was almost overwhelmed with the odor of whiskey, pine, and cigars.

Albert held up his left hand and flicked out the laser knife. He quickly sliced opened the safe door and grabbed the manila envelop. He handed it to Ivan and then grabbed the bundles of United States dollars, avoiding the other types of currency. Ivan opened the desk and found an empty canvas bank bag; Albert stuffed it full.

He watched Ivan pick up the phone and dial. "Yes, operator, I need the police. It's an emergency." Minutes later he said, "Yes, I want to report several kidnappings. There are several children that are being held against their will at the Kitagawa chalet... It's not a prank..." Suddenly, Ivan's eye glowed bright blue. "You believe me. You fear the children are hurting, and it's life and death. You believe Kitagawa is a violent criminal, and his chalet needs to torn apart top to bottom... What? Who am I?" Ivan's eyes half-shut; his eye dimmed as he took a deep breath. "My name is Ivan Whiskey."

With that he slammed the phone on the cradle. Albert smirked and followed Ivan towards the kitchen. "Ivan Whiskey?"

"It's a name that'll do."

"I guess so," he mumbled as they walked into the kitchen, where Jet sat on a counter.

"Are we good?"

Ivan held up the manila folder. It burst into flame and disappeared. Albert held up the bag and said, "Got something for us."

"The police will be here soon," Ivan said. Jet hopped off the counter and paced for almost fifteen minute. Frances came jogging in and nearly bumped into the lanky teenager.

"The police are coming. The children are all willing to tell the truth."

"Good, they won't be the only ones," Ivan said. He turned to Kitagawa, his eye glowing. "You'll confess every horrible, illegal thing you've ever done the next time you see a policeman."

He then turned to Albert. "Let's get out of here."

"Where to?" Ivan asked.

He glanced over at Jet, who looked troubled with everything around him. Albert answered, "New York."

A blue flash and a slight nauseous sensation hit Albert. Suddenly, it was early evening in an alleyway. The dissonance of cars and people filled Albert's ears. Jet stepped to the edge of the alleyway and turned to Albert. The young man didn't say anything. He didn't have to for Albert to sense his gratitude.

"It's nice to be home again."

To be continued.


	16. Chapter 16

[This chapter, and the next, are Jet dealing with his past. Frances will have a stronger voice again after I explore Jet's angst at his homecoming. Also, the Kitagawas will turn up again and put Gilmore in a heap of trouble. I didn't expect this story to be this long. Well, I'll have to stop predicting when certain things are going to happen and just go with what feels right. I really want to do right by this story because I'm really pulling it together after so many years of yearning to write it. This one story has been a dream for a very long time. Or at least pretty solid since the song 'Young Offender' came out in 1993. I reread the lyrics last night and was amazed how they still fit. I so adore New Order! Enjoy.

Oh also, I hated picking a "real" name for Jet because everyone has their own opinion on what it should be, and there is no canon record of him having another name other than 'Jet.' I saddled him with the name bellow because of the comedic situation it creates... you'll see. That and I just had to pay homage to Condor Joe from Gatchaman.]

Chapter 16:

"So what do we do now?" Frances asked.

"I know just the person who can help us out! Come on," Jet said, starting to leave the alleyway. His excitement was high; it came down when Albert grabbed his elbow.

"Our uniforms," Albert pointed out.

"Aw, people will think we're in some band or something. They'll leave us alone," Jet said. "Hey! Let's see how much bread we scored."

Albert held the bag out and opened it. Jet peeked in, and his eyes grew wide as saucers. "We hit the big time. That's more money than I've ever seen in my life."

"Me too," Albert agreed in German and tied up the sack again. "Let's get some clothes and get off the street."

"Cool." Jet lead them down the street. He read the street signs and smirked. "Good job, Ivan. My old neighborhood?"

"I read your mind," Ivan replied weakly. Jet looked at him and grew concerned. The young looking teen appeared pale and shaky.

"Are you okay?"

"I need to sleep soon."

"Clothes and food. Then we crash," Jet said. He lead them three blocks to a set of buildings. He yanked open the door to a secondhand shop he knew well.

"Hey, Gianni! Long time, no see," a pudgy, balding man called out from behind the counter. Jet felt his face grow blazing hot at hearing his actual, given name. He glanced at Albert, who gave him a raised eyebrow and wicked smirk.

"You mean we have the same name?" Ivan asked. Jet felt his face get hotter.

"We do not have the same name! Don't even say that! Jet is my name!"

"What?" Frances asked looking baffled.

"Gianni and Ivan both have the same meaning as the name 'John'," Albert explained. Jet couldn't help but glare.

"It's Jet! Not Gianni or John. Cut it out," Jet snapped and turned to the the counter worker.

"Wait a minute! Jet, you mean you, my brother, and Ivan all really have the same name? And wait a minute! All that time in Italy and you always went by a nick-name? We've been calling you 'Jet' for a year and a half, and you never gave a clue it was a nick-name," Frances babbled with wide, aqua eyes. He swirled around and glared at the amused cough coming from Albert. Jet hung his head when Albert doubled over laughing. Ivan kept snickering, while Frances looked amused.

Jet flushed at remembering his attraction to Jean-Paul; and it only irritated him more to realize, in some strange way, they had the same given name. It made him feel even more awkward. He glowered at the trio and turned back to the pudgy, bald man.

"Hey, Frank, I need a few favors," Jet mumbled to the man.

"Fine with me, Mr. Gianni Alessandro Licursi," the man said, picking up on the teasing.

Jet got even more furious, hearing his whole birth name instead of 'Jet Link,' his Americanized, adopted name. But, that's what he got for walking in the store of his mother's cousin, Frank. Still, his options were few. "Hey, who are your friends, by the way? Did you run off and join some sort of a band? Guy and Antonia were pretty pissed off you ran away."

"Some strange things have happened to me." Jet stiffened at his parents' given names.

"What? A year and half and you don't call your folks? I heard you called Marky all the way from Italy. Is that where you've been?"

"That jerk has a big mouth." Jet sighed, and figured he'd have to cover. "I've been a lot of places, but I really need some quick help, and it needs to be kept a big secret. Even from my folks. My friends and I need some clothes, food, and place to crash for a couple of days. The biggest favor we need is dealing with something that's hot."

"Oh, my son got popped last month for fencing. Depends on what it is."

"Actually, laundering is the more accurate term, Franko," Jet said.

"How much?" the man asked, his eyes darted suspiciously to Frances, Albert, and Ivan.

"I count close to half a million. There's more," Albert answered. Frank's eyes bulged.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa there, Jet-boy. No wonder you don't want me to tell your old lady. You hit the big time somehow?"

"You could say that. Can you handle it?"

"I can't, but I know who can. Probably take a few days," Frank murmured. He shook the stunned expression off his face. He looked over at Frances, Albert, and Ivan again. "Listen, pick the racks for what ever you want." He waved his pudgy hand toward two, rickety clothing racks between the dilapidated shelves. "Second hand clothing don't go so well, so take anything you want, on the house."

Jet watched his three fellow cyborgs wander around the dusty second hand store, and then he turned back to Frank. "Did Mark explain what happened that night?"

Frank nodded, looking grim. "It was self-defense? The other kid was going to knife you first?"

"It was mutual, but I really regret what happened. Something really horrible happened to me right afterwards."

"You aren't wanted by the cops, if that's what you're asking. You know they have too much on their plate to deal with, but you should know that, considering your old man is one. Hey, no one from your gang finked on you, but uh... that's not good for you if you run into them."

"At least I won't have the cops trying to bust my chops, but I've got bigger problems than that. Listen, there is a huge cut for you if you don't let my folks or anyone else know about us."

He leaned over to Jet and asked, "Aren't they foreign?"

"They're all European."

"That man is a lot older than the crowd you run with. And I've never really seen you include girls in you gang. What's going on?"

"I can't tell you because you wouldn't believe me anyway. We've been through hell over the last year and half."

"I'm starting to think you didn't run away that night."

"You're right. It wasn't my choice. Now, I'm stuck in a situation," Jet said.

Frank leaned over and watched the floor. Jet looked over to where he was watching Frances hold up a dress. She turned and reach to the top shelf for a pair of shoes; Jet noticed that the skirt on her uniform rose, showing a tantalizing bit of thigh. Frank said, "I'd like to be stuck in your situation."

Jet took a deep breath and jerked his own eyes from the slight show Frances was unaware of. "Trust me, you wouldn't."

"She's looker. Is she your girl?"

"Frank, how about food and a place to stay?" Jet said. Frank looked at Jet again in annoyance. "Fine. You all can crash at the apartment in the back until we get the money situation settled. The door to the apartment is out back in the alleyway. It only has two bedrooms, though. There are some canned goods, but you got to come upstairs for Josie's home cooking."

"Don't even tell Josie. We'll eat whatever is out back."

"Fine." Frank got a huge keyring out of his pocket. He unfastened one and handed it to Jet as Albert came walking up with a bunch of clothes draped over his arm.

* * *

"How long do you think he'll be out?" Jet asked after Frances closed the door on the tiny room beside a rundown kitchenette.

"At least ten days. By then, I hope we'll have the money situation sorted out."

"Should. Frank is a good guy. He'll help me out," Jet said, pouring her a cup of coffee as she joined he and Albert at the table. Jet's brow furrowed. "I used to crash at his place when I was a kid. Just sometimes. You know. When things wouldn't be so choice at home." Jet forced his expression to brighten. "Tomorrow I want to get the biggest hamburger and thickest shake I can find. Then I want to just walk in a park. It'll be so cool."

"Well, I think I need to take a shower and rest up," Frances said. She rose and asked, "Is it okay?" Jet and Albert looked to where she pointed, the only other bedroom.

Jet felt a smile creep to his face as his mind raced with several, half-formed, risqué responses. Albert spoke first, shooting him a nasty look, "Of course, Frances. Go ahead."

"Thanks," she stumbled off to the bathroom in between the bedroom doors after gathering her night clothes and a robe she had found at Frank's shop.

"What?" Jet asked Albert, after giving him a mock innocent shrug.

"Do I even even need to dignify that with a response?"

"No," Jet said, starting to fiddle with a spoon on the table. "I was just going to tease."

"Please don't. She's too tired, and I'd let her snap your neck," Albert replied, draining his mug. He smirked. "Come on. Let's get some sleep, too."

"Hey, good thing we found a second couch in the shop. I'd hate to see you have to sack out on the hardwood floor," Jet teased, while grabbing the end of a couch.

Albert gripped the other end and moved it to face the other rundown couch, only a coffee table separated them. "If that were the case, I'd suggest we draw cards again."

Jet couldn't repress his glare at the memory of that French apartment they had shared. "I'm a lot taller than you. You should have let me have the bed."

"I'm a lot older than you. I though you should be kind to my old bones."

"Oh... you aren't that much older!"

Jet was surprised to see Albert looked taken off guard. "Does that mean you'll stop referring to me like I'm ancient?"

"I only did that at first." Jet smirked, flopping on his couch. Albert sat on his own, facing Jet. "Hey, what did you want to do after we get the laundered cash?"

"I don't know yet, but I want to stay here. There are probably Black Ghost agents here we could hit."

"Wow, you really are into doing this?"

"I'm committed," Albert answered in a dry tone.

Jet leaned foreword and nodded, not able to repress his smile. "So am I. It's kind of like the James Brothers, or Ma Barker and her gang, or Bonnie and Clyde."

Albert laughed. "I don't think Frances would want to be compared to a criminal."

"I wouldn't, and don't do it again," Frances said, walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head and bundled in a robe.

Jet laughed. "Aw come on, Frannie."

She shook her head and went to her bedroom. After she slammed the door, he turned back to Albert. "Like I said before..."

"I think you've ran your mouth too much today. Let's get some sleep."

"Fine," Jet said, stretching out on the couch. Albert turned the lights off, and Jet heard him settle on the couch across the way. "Hey, Al?" he whispered.

"Hun?"

"Thanks for having Ivan bring us to New York. I owe you," Jet said in hushed German.

"You owe me nothing. Get some rest," Albert replied in soft English.

Jet settle back and caught his breath while he tried to peer at the ceiling through the inky darkness. He wanted to confront Albert and get in his face. Everyone wanted something. That was the way all of his experiences with people worked. His mind went back to when Albert had said 'I'm proud of you.' For someone to offer him kindness for nothing stunned him like those words.

Now, he found sleep impossible; the excitement of being in the Big Apple again, along with Albert's words, kept his mind spinning until three am, long after he could hear Albert's even breaths.

* * *

"How can such a skinny boy eat so much?" Frances asked Albert. Jet smirked at her. She was sitting beside Albert. The German man snorted and shook his head; he was sitting across from Jet in the booth of a crowded, greasy-spoon diner. The German man pushed his half-eaten hamburger and onion-rings aside.

"I wasn't this bad when I was his age," he said to Frances. "It must be an American thing."

Jet dipped his last onion-ring in ketchup and ate it whole. His eyes half shutting in ecstasy. After he chewed and swallowed, he smiled at them and said, "It's nice to have real food instead of that stuff you Europeans call food. Frannie! You only took two bites."

"It's too heavy," she argued. Moments later, a new song called 'The Duke of Earl' started playing on a jukebox in the corner. Jet normally hated the popular, modern do-wop music, but it was a pleasure hearing it now, letting him know he was in New York again.

"Fine, let's go walking around the park. It'll be fun."

"Are you sure Ivan will be fine?"

"Yeah, Frank will look in during his lunch break. He'll be okay," Jet said.

"Maybe I should get back," Frances said.

"Aw come, Frannie. Come out with us."

"Jet, I just want to rest some, and I want to check on Ivan. I know I seem nervous, but I'll feel better at the apartment."

Albert interrupted, to Jet's irritation, before he could try to badger her more. "We'll walk you home, Frances, and then I'll walk him around the park and burn off some of his energy."

Albert payed the soda-jerk, and the three of them walked two blocks back to the alleyway where the door to the apartment was located. They bid Frances farewell and walked towards Central Park. Jet jammed his hands in his jacket pockets and lowered his eyes. Albert walked next to him, but remained quiet for the long walk.

"January in New York is bitter cold. Even I feel it," Albert said, as they crossed the road into the park.

"You know, when we get the money, we need to do something nice for Frances. She was a real stand up gal with the whole Kitagawa thing."

"Not a bad idea. She seems pretty melancholy. It may cheer her up some," Albert agreed. Jet paused and smiled at Albert just as winter afternoon snow started drifting slowly from the hazy sky. Albert shrugged and said, "We need something to celebrate. Hilda always used to love celebrations. I never was big on them myself." Jet started at Albert's mention of his deceased wife; he had long since let the fact of Albert's marriage slip out of his mind.

"Booze?" Jet asked, flashing a sly smile, hoping to pull away from the Hilda topic. After all, what words could he possible offer to comfort a widower. Not only that, he felt something he couldn't define. It was almost envy, but he wasn't sure. It was too brief.

"If you want."

"Cool. A party would be pretty cool. This is like a change in direction for all of us. I mean, we're really doing something good. All those kids Kitagawa had. I just couldn't believe it!"

"I know. That's what we need to focus on. We're starting down a path, and I want to make sure we have a chance to recover from our past experiences so we can go into the future without regrets. I figured New York would be ideal. We can try to get in touch with Jean-Paul while we're here, and we can analyze world events. Also, spy a little on the Black Ghost via Ivan."

"We'll also have to work in some fun."

Albert shook his head and tugged his coat lapels together against a gust of wind carrying several snow flakes. "Let's get back. I don't want to worry Frances."

"Yeah, after what happened in Australia..."

"And in Italy..." Albert pointed out.

"Yeah, I don't think she wants to be alone too long."

* * *

When Jet and Albert got back, Frances told them that Frank had left a message to come talk with him. Frances locked the apartment door, and the three of them went around the store, avoiding small patches of ice. They walked into the secondhand store; Frank went over and locked the door and pulled a shade.

"I got someone who can handle it," Frank said, rubbing a meaty hand over his bald scalp. "You can give me the cash, and I'll make the arrangements. It'll take about three days."

"That's a lot of money," Albert said. He didn't want to have to start over yet again. He wanted some breathing room that money could afford. The only thing that made him lean towards trusting the heavyset man was wary Jet's willingness ask the man for help.

"Franko is legit. Don't worry about it, Al. We can trust him."

"Fine. What kind of percentage are we looking at?"

"Fifty-fifty split."

"That's pretty steep, considering what we did for it, Frank. Can't you work out a family deal?" Jet asked.

"Sorry, Ernie wants a big cut because this is a first time deal, and it's such a large amount, but I can do something for you. I won't charge you for rent and utilities. At least for... say, six months?"

"We may not stay that long," Jet said. Albert didn't miss the redhead's frustrated tone and tense shoulders.

"Well, we'll figure it up at the end."

"Deal," Jet said, shaking Frank's hand.

* * *

Frances finished knitting a dark purple scarf and held it up for inspection. She smiled at it and set aside her knitting needles on the coffee table. She check Jean-Paul's pocket watch and felt slightly nervous. Jet and Albert were half an hour late from their meeting with Frank. Today was the day they were to get their money and could be free to leave.

She was going to go check on Ivan when Jet and Albert came walking in. She was surprised to see Albert was carrying a vase of mixed flowers and a bag of groceries. "What is all this for?" Frances asked.

"Jet thought we should celebrate. We thought you deserved a special thank you for helping with the Kitagawa situation," Albert answered.

"Oh you shouldn't have," she said, delighted, taking the flowers. She gave Albert a quick hug and peck on the cheek. "Thank you so much."

"Hey, I have cake," Jet said, holding out a pink box.

"I can't believe you two remembered!" she said, stunned, as tears started welling up.

"It's just a cake, Frannie."

"I mean, it was two weeks ago, and we were so busy, but for you two to make a point of remembering my birthday is wonderful." Frances placed the vase on the coffee table. She took the cake box and grocery bag from her two male compatriots that had identical stupefied expressions. She paused and gave them a critical look. "You didn't remember, did you?"

She set the cake down, and put her hands on her hips as they traded looks, confused about what to do. Slowly Jet and Albert started snickering; they both collapsed on the couch and shook their heads.

"Sorry, Frances. This was a coincidence. I wish I could say I did remember, but I'm useless as far as those things go. I've spent plenty of nights on couches for forgetting those sorts of things, before," Albert admitted. Jet was now laughing full force.

"Well, I didn't forget someone's birthday." Frances grabbed the new, purple scarf. She stalked over to Jet, wrapped it around his throat with three loops, and yanked the ends. Jet playfully swatted her away, and he examined the ends.

"What's this?"

"It's your birthday present three weeks early."

She saw him pause as if wondering what to do next. She was afraid he didn't like it, but he finally looked pleased. "Hey, it's cool. Thanks, Frances."

"You're welcome. How about some dinner? Then we could talk about our plans. We have the money?" Frances asked.

"Yep. Frank came through for us."

"Good. Albert, set the table while Jet and I get the food together."

* * *

"That was a great meal, Frannie." Jet leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette. He slid his lighter across the table to Albert, who did the same.

"I wish you two wouldn't smoke in here. It's too small a space and smell is horrible."

"But it's so cold."

"Well, at least cut back," she said. "And I was thinking. We'll stay here until the end of February, and then maybe go back to France? I really want to check on Jean-Paul."

"That sounds fine, but I want to see if there are any Merchants of Death to hit in New York before we leave," Albert said.

"Aw, just when my homesickness was leaving," Jet teased. Frances looked as if she were about nag him, but he said, "Don't worry, I know we have to stay on the move."

She looked mollified and nodded. "I figured you could go visit your parents. I'll invite them over for your birthday, and we can get to know them."

Jet felt his stomach clench and every muscle in his body get tight. "No," he said in spite of his dry mouth.

"Quit being such a child. Your parents will be so happy, and I'm sure you really miss them. Once you see them, you'll forgive the past and be grateful to rebuild your connection with them. You shouldn't waste this opportunity."

"Stay out of it! And do not get around my parents! I mean it! I don't want to see those monsters again!"

"How could you even talk about the people who gave you life like that! It's appalling! You're so lucky to still have them around! You need to go mend things with them!"

"Kept to yourself, sister! You don't know what the hell you're talking about!" Jet felt his face grow hot as she glared at him.

"Frances, it should be Jet's choice if he wants to see his parents again. He has reasons he hasn't discussed with us, and you would do well to respect them."

Albert's calm, almost patronizing tone riled Jet even more. "Don't speak for me, old man."

Albert frowned at him, but remained silent. Frances jumped out of her chair, still glaring at him. "You're nothing but a child! I'm sure your parents were justified with as difficult as you are!" She paled and stared at him, wide-eyed; she knew she'd gone too far. Rather than say something he'd regret, Jet stormed out of the apartment, after grabbing his coat.

He slammed the door and ran into the cold, snowy night, not even conscious of a direction. He ran down the streets familiar to him, the ones he grew up on. Snow fell, so he was confident he'd be alone. He finally got to a sheltered bus-stop and flopped on the seat. He forced his breathing to get even as he slumped over, elbows on knees.

He had no idea how long he had been sitting on the bench. Long enough for him to feel chilled to his enhanced bones and see his breath come out in white puffs. He focused on his anger. He knew he really wasn't angry with Frances; he was really jealous of how she grew up. He doubted her parents, or Jean-Paul, acted like his parents.

Underneath it all, there was still anger at his parents. He knew the other guys in his gang would also get the occasional cuff on the head from their folks, but he also knew not many of them went through some of the evenings he had with volatile, alcoholic parents. Even when his mother got the gumption to leave his father, it wouldn't be long before she'd come back. Sometimes she took Jet; mostly, she left him behind. It depended on what would irritate his father the most; then, his father would take it out on him, either way.

He shivered as he pushed aside one memory of a belt slapping across his face. He pushed up the cuff of his coat and realized there were no more little, round burn scars on his skin. The Black Ghost had taken those away and put deeper ones under his skin. Suddenly, what his parents had done created questions instead of an instant, hostile reaction.

His brow furrowed as he tried to understand his parents' actions. It mixed with Kitagawa and all those little children's tear-stained faces turned up at him when he and Frances went to let them go.

He shivered and decided he needed to go back and patch things up with Frances. He understood she cared about his well-being, even if she didn't understand what he'd been through. He just had to find a way to get her to lay off, but not tell her details of what he had lived through. Shame made his face hot all over again as he rose to his feet and started wandering around.

A slight movement between buildings caught his eye. He lifted his chin and squared his slumping shoulders. He heard some shuffling behind him.

"Well, look at who didn't take my advice and decided to show back up."

Jet swirled around and saw Mark standing behind him. What made Jet nervous was seeing Paul and Gino at either side. He worked up a glare as Mark tapped the end of a baseball bat against his left hand. Snowflakes fluttered down on Mark under the conic streetlight glow, each sparkling. Paul had a length of pine two-by-four, and Gino flicked his blade out; they both stood in the dark outside of the streetlight. Jet could see they all had rage in their eyes.

More shuffling happened behind Jet. He glanced over his shoulder to see Carlos and Stevie in the dim light. They each had thick chains and looked ready to fight. Jet took a deep breath and calmed his nerves. He knew he absolutely had to keep his cybernization a secret if they had turned against him; protecting Ivan, Frances, and Albert from anything they may say in retaliation was first on Jet's mind.

He forced a chuckle and crossed his arms. His hand tugged slightly at the purple scarf around his neck, then he dropped his hands to his hips. "So, Mark, you come out to rumble? Thought you'd be too old for that. Last I heard, you two morons..." He gestured towards Gino and Paul, "were doing a nickel at Reikers. Did they let you out for good behavior?" Jet saw his mocking tone enraged the pair. He hoped to get the edge on them by getting them irrational; he could tell there was nothing he was going to say to change their mind from trying to beat him to a pulp.

"Thanks to you, Sal, Tom, and Jake are dead. If you wouldn't have killed that Puerto Rican, we wouldn't have been popped," Gino said, pointing the end of his two-by-four at Jet's nose.

"Hey, that thing you pulled with the dame down the street was your fault. Oh, look, Marky looks surprised. I called from Italy, and he told me what happened. So how did you find me, anyway?"

"Grandma was watching you for half an hour at the bus-stop while I called the guys that have a beef with you. That obnoxious hair color tags you as old lady Link's kid," Mark answered.

"We were fine until you killed that Puerto Rican! This is all that's left! You destroyed what we had!" Gino shouted.

"So where is Rick and Howie?" Jet asked, acting lackadaisical, suppressing his burning curiosity.

"Rick found straight work and wouldn't come out when I called, and Howie got hitched to some dame he knocked up," Mark answered with narrowed eyes. Jet kept his expression blank, but the news about Howie was a surprise. Jet knew he had even more interest in girls than Howie, and that was saying a great deal.

He shook his head slightly and smirked at Mark. "You want to rumble? Fine! Let's go. Just you and me. You always ran your mouth. Let see what a toughie you are," Jet said.

Mark pointed the top of his baseball bat towards the alleyway. "Get your ass in there, Jet, so I can beat it."

"You wish," Jet said, walking towards the alleyway. He wasn't afraid of his gang. He could get away easily, or he could easily get the upper-hand on them, but he had to do this as a normal person, not a cyborg. He had to prove to himself he could stand up to them and honestly get 'jumped out' by his gang, so he could put them in his past.

He walked into the dark alleyways and sent the signals to the electronic part of his brain; he shut off all of his cyborg advantages and reduced his power by eighty percent. Now he was on equal footing with them, normal people. He turned to see Gino and Paul cover one side of the alleyway while Stevie and Carlos covered the other side. Jet shrugged off his coat and raised his fists.

"Come on, tough man! Give me what you got!" Jet shouted.

Mark raised the baseball bat and lunged at him. Jet's adrenaline flared, and he felt totally alive. Jet dodged and sank his right fist into Mark's side. Mark gasped and swirled with great difficulty.

"I'll slice you open for that."

"Try it," Jet growled and tensed for the next charge.

To be continued.


	17. Chapter 17

[A special thank you to my husband for help on this chapter. He really helps me hash out men/ women interactions. Thank you so much, Sweetie!]

Chapter 17:

Hitomi Kitagawa slowly removed her over-sized sunglasses and looked over to where the door of her car opened. Her husband, Hondo, slid in beside her. He scowled and crossed his arm; then, he barked curt orders at the driver to take them home.

When they were on their way home, north, from the new Kansai International Airport, he leaned over and kissed the cheek she offered. He didn't expect her to speak until they were in total privacy. He appreciated his wife's discretion and restraint; he knew it came from the public persona she was forced to maintain. Also, her model-perfect features were apathetic; it was her normal expression behind closed doors.

He was surprised, and irritated, to see her brother's car in the driveway as they pulled up to their seaside mansion. "So, you didn't tell me we had company."

"I guess I was busy cleaning up behind you," her icy, yet rich, voice sent shivers down Hondo's spine.

"No one asked you to," he snapped.

"Takuma did. After all, Shimamura Electronics was put in an uncomfortable position by your special guests in Switzerland. The club you and Takuma are in requires some answers," she said, turning her gorgeous brown eyes away from him.

He turned his face away, rather than show his disapproval at her interference in his business affairs. This was a violation of their agreement. He would keep his business dealings covert to protect her reputation, and she would have no say in what he did to earn their fortune.

It was an arrangement that had worked for almost ten years of marriage; at least, it worked until her brother had invited him to join the Black Ghost two years ago. Now it seemed that Hitomi felt as if she had more of a right to interfere with his business decisions.

He got out of the car and went around to let Hitomi out. He tucked her smooth, petite hand in the crook of his arm. They entered the home and went immediately to Hondo's study. It suited his masculine taste, with heavy, mahogany furniture and leather bound books. He looked to the leather, cordovan sofa where his brother-in-law sat sipping a whiskey out of a lead crystal glass. Takuma sat beside Ryu, flipping through one of his adventure books.

Ryu looked up at Hondo and shouted, "Papa!" The nine-year-old child leaped away from his uncle and raced to Hondo's arms. He felt elated at seeing his only child and hugged him tight after lofting him into the air.

"Have you been a good boy for your mother and Uncle Takuma?"

"Of course, Papa," he chirped brightly. He studied his child's face for a moment. He was glad Ryu had gotten all of Hitomi's good looks and her brains.

"Listen, I need to talk to your uncle. I promise to spend time with you before dinner."

"I'm glad you're home," Ryu said as Hondo set the child beside Hitomi. The woman clasped her child's hand and tugged him out of the study. After the door was shut, Hondo fixed himself a whiskey and glowered at Takuma.

"My sister had to bribe a lot of men to cover up what happed in Switzerland. You know her career is very important; Akira Kurasawa important. And, there are rumors you lost my blueprints for the Black Ghost."

"And I lost eight pieces of merchandise. We all lost. Who knew that Black Ghost project would come back and cause trouble. I thought they were trying to put those cyborgs on ice?"

Takuma, who had the same elegant smile and empty eyes as his sister and nephew, set aside his drink and fold his tapered hands on his lap. "That's where you come in. They want to know every detail of the attack. It was inconceivable that the cyborgs would rebel like this. Outrageous."

"Sure, what does Black Ghost want?"

"They want you to meet with a Russian woman tomorrow. She'll quiz you on the details, and then they can, hopefully, regain the Double Zero Cyborgs."

"I'll do it," Hondo snarled. "That kid made me look like a fool! Do you realize that every time I saw a police officer, I couldn't help but talk about my business? He did something to me. Thank goodness it wore off, whatever he did."

"Good, she'll be over around ten in the morning. I'll pick up Hitomi and Ryu before then. I think it would be best my nephew didn't know any more about your business than he already does."

Hondo's eyes narrowed. "Get out. I'll take care of Ryu. Mind your own business and your pregnant wife."

Takuma Shimamura flashed a smile, the same charming smile from Hitomi, and nodded. "Tomorrow."

Hondo nodded back, and his brother-in-law left. He flopped on the cordovan, leather sofa and snorted. He gulped another swallow of the burning liquid.

* * *

Jet jumped back slightly to avoid the swinging bat. Mark swung again with the bat raised high. Jet stepped to his left and grabbed the end of the bat as it came down past his side. He yanked the bat away from Mark and gave him a hard shove to the snowy, concrete ground.

Mark rolled over and leaped back to his feet. Jet chuckled and tossed the bat in the air. He gracefully caught it on the smaller side and shook his head. "I was always better than you, Mark, so just go home now. It's over."

"It's not over until you're bleeding," Mark said.

Jet felt a strong blow to his lower back that knocked the breath out of him. He stumbled several steps and remained standing. If he wouldn't have been a cyborg, that would have crushed his spine. It was still painful. He turned to see Paul loft his two-by-four and was about to hit the top of Jet's head. He dodged, but Paul caught him on the left shoulder.

He swung the bat with his right and was able to crack the two-by-four. Jet's mind went blank as he charged Paul and swung the bat into his stomach. Paul crumpled to the ground, giving Jet enough of a chance to turn around to face Gino.

Jet couldn't move back fast enough to avoid the swipe to his stomach. The switchblade sliced through his white teeshirt and made a deep cut in his artificial skin, but the tip didn't hit anything vital. "Dumb ass, Gino. I got a bat you idiot. How are you going to get close to me?"

"Screw you, Jet," Gino said, charging Jet. Jet quickly hoisted the bat and swung at Gino's hand, trying to avoid a fatal blow to the head. Jet was pleased to see the switchblade go arching off into the dark, snowy night, with Gino stupidly staring after it.

"You were always such an idiot!" Jet raised the bat and faked a swipe towards Gino face. "Scram or I'll beat the shit out of you!"

Gino, like the mindless goon he was, turned and ran out of the alleyway as Paul sat up, glaring after Gino. Paul tried to stand, but Jet shoved him back against a brick wall with his foot. "Listen, candy ass, don't move a muscle."

Jet turned to see Stevie and Carlos come at him with their chains. He knew they could get the upper-hand, because they were smarter and quicker than the other three. Jet glanced down and discarded the bat in favor or a baseball sized chunk of concrete. He pitched it quickly at Stevie's chest, right as he ran towards Jet.

Stevie fell back, winded, but Carlos still came. Jet tried to avoid the chain swinging towards his left arm, but couldn't. It slapped painfully around his arm; again, he knew if he weren't a cyborg, his bones would be crushed. Carlos yanked back the chain, tearing Jet's artificial skin. His left arm was oozing what would appear to be blood to his former gang members.

Carlos took aim and swung the chain at Jet's head. Jet ducked down, the chain grazing the top of his head. That's when it dawned on him. They were really trying to kill him. Carlos swung again. This time, Jet took the punishment and grabbed the chain with his left hand. He jerked the chain and grabbed more of it, taking a shocked Carlos off balance. Jet brought his knee into Calos's gut and shoved him to the ground.

Carlos held up his hands in surrender. Jet turned around and was amazed to feel a sharp pain to his stomach. He was staring at Mark's hardened eyes, then he looked down to see Gino's blade had been used to stab him.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Jet roared and shoved Mark back with a surge of adrenaline. His anger exploded as he grabbed the baseball bat, once again, and came after Mark.

The stunned greaser stumbled backwards and slipped on a patch of ice. Jet hoisted up the baseball bat as he screamed. He about brought it down on Mark's head, but the guy cowered. A memory cut through Jet's red, hazy anger.

Jet remembered he and Mark standing outside a toy store on a hot August day when they were eight-years old. They fantasized what it would be like to use a real bat, ball, and glove instead of a stick, a rock, and their bare hands.

They then went over to a park in a wealthier area and watched, with envy in their hearts, a bunch of other kids play baseball with proper equipment. When the other children noticed them, they started teasing Jet and Mark, finally chasing them off with loud laughter. The envy in Jet's heart turned to shame, and then bitterness. He knew it was the same for Mark.

Jet lowered the bat slowly and let out a shaky breath. His anger drained leaving behind only sympathy. "It's over, Mark. If you or the guys see me on the streets again, turn the other way. Next time, I won't hold back."

Mark nodded, wide-eyed. Jet stooped, with considerable pain, to get his coat from the snowy ground. He didn't put in on because it was wet. He walked home, resting the baseball bat over his right shoulder.

* * *

"So what do you want to know, Mrs. Gamo?" Hondo asked in German, gesturing to a black winged-back chair. German was the only language they mutually knew. The plump, older woman removed her hat, gloves, and coat. She smoothed down the front of her drab, gray dress and fixed him with a scrutinizing gaze.

"You won't have to say a word, Mr. Kitagawa. Just rest comfortably on the sofa. I'll be able to retrieve your memories easily. Afterwards, I'll report my finding, and we'll hope to capture them."

Hondo was baffled at how she was going to do this, hypnotism perhaps. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, and I hope you haven't drank in a while. It'll make this process easier."

"Not since yesterday afternoon." He took a seat in the middle of the cordovan sofa. He started loosening his gray, silk tie when he saw the Russian woman's blue eyes start glowing a faint amethyst. He paused and wondered if he was seeing things because of his jet lag.

"You aren't seeing things, Mr. Kitagawa. Sleep," she said.

* * *

"Oh my... Jet! What happened?" Frances gasped, jumping off the couch. Albert rose, looking absolutely shell shocked.

"I ran into some old buddies, and we partied hard," Jet mumbled, dropping his coat and purple scarf.

"You're bleeding out fluid!" Frances said, coming up to him. She started to grab for his teeshirt, but he flinched before she could touch him.

"I'm okay."

"Jet, don't be stubborn. Let Frances treat you," Albert ordered in a soft, yet firm, voice. Jet let Frances lead him to the bathroom. He removed his teeshirt and sat up as straight as he could on the edge of the bathtub. Frances got out a large, leather case from a towel closet, and removed a roll of flesh colored tape and a small can of sealant.

"Are any of your internal organs hurt?"

"Naw."

"Your back and shoulder look like hell," Albert said, leaning on the sink while watching them.

"Yeah well, my friends wanted to give a memorable welcome home."

Albert frowned as Frances cut strips and placed them around his left arm and hand. She then cut another strip and covered the slice across his stomach and the puncture wound above it. She then shook the small can of adhesive.

"Hold your arm over the bathtub."

Jet did as Frances asked. She sprayed the adhesive on his left arm. It stung horribly as the strips of artificial skin started bonding with the skin on his arm. She quickly applied some to his stomach and put the cap back on the spray can.

"It's a good thing Kozumi invented that. We'll have to have him send us a case if you keep going for walks by yourself," Albert said, giving Jet a sharp look.

"Let me see your bruises," Frances ordered. She quickly left the bathroom with a thin towel. Jet was baffled at the sound of the front door opening and closing. She came back a minute later with some icicles wrapped in it. He hissed at the stinging cold against the hot bruise. "You'll need to keep this on your back to get the swelling down. Our muscles still act like natural ones, only tougher. At least that's what Kozumi told me, once."

Jet stiffly looked down and stared at his arm. The replacement skin looked like crackled patch stuck to his cuts. He took his thumb nail and started picking at a spot on his wrist. "Don't pick at it! It'll take at least a week to bond your skin together. Let it melt and work."

He smirked, but didn't respond. She then asked, "Are you sure nothing internal is hurt? You're back is getting purple. You know, Jet, they took our original muscles and laced them with wire to increase the strength and protect them. You're not indestructible."

"After what I've been through, I'm starting to think I am," Jet said causticly.

"Oh, Jet, please don't be like this. I'm so sorry. This was my fault. I should haven't pushed you. You wouldn't have left."

Jet's anger suddenly surged up; she didn't appreciate the struggle he'd been through and placed no value on the accomplishment of earning his freedom. She had taken Jet's decisions and made them her responsibility. She didn't understand that he had chosen this.

Jet glared at her, barely repressing his anger. He didn't think he could explain himself to her, but he tried. "You don't get it! I needed it to happen. I'm okay. I'm better than I have been in a long time. I feel a little freer, and I don't need your condescending attitude. Patch me up and shut up."

She gasped and looked almost on the verge of tears, her cheeks reddened. Albert said, "Jet, don't talk to her like that. At least give her some respect."

Jet clenched his jaw and waved his hand in the air. "Fine. Sorry," he spat out through grinding teeth. It was hopeless trying to communicate with Frances. They were too different. The three of them sat in silence for several long minutes.

"I'm still so ashamed of what I said." Frances clasped her hand in front of her chest, looking sorrowful. "I talked with Albert while we waited for you to come back. I think I said those things because, I'm really jealous that you still have the ability to talk to your parents." Jet wasn't shocked at Frances' confession, but it was the first time anyone had said they envied him. Her attitude turned somber.

She turned her heavy, aqua eyes to meet his and said, "I lost my parents when I was thirteen. It's been so hard on me. When I used to dance, I'd imagine them out in the audience, proud of me. During the holidays, it was so hard. Jean-Paul would do his best, but he was missing them too. I guess I felt you were taking your family for granted."

Jet chuckled and shook his head. "Family isn't just blood, Frannie. It's when you watch someone's back, and you know they have yours. It's trust. Real trust you just don't hand out to anyone."

Jet felt awkward seeing a tear trickle down France's left cheek. He wrapped his right arm around her shoulder and squeezed her quickly, aware of his shirtless state, but stilling needing to let her know they were at peace. He sat back from her and placed his right hand on her shoulder.

"Listen, Frannie, there are things about what happened to me when I was a kid that I'm trying to sort through. I don't really want to talk about it, but my parents weren't like yours. You got to understand that they drank a whole lot and didn't handle their... stress... well. Can you just let it alone at that and give me some room to think?"

"I promise I will, but please think about it. Once they're dead, you'll never get the resolution you need. Just think about yourself and what you need."

"Okay. Thanks for patching me up."

Frances let Jet take over holding the makeshift ice pack. Then she closed the black case and stowed it away. "I'm exhausted. Good night." She leaned over and gave Jet a quick peck on the cheek. She then turned, rose on her toes, and gave Albert a peck on the cheek, too. She said to him, "Thanks so much. I appreciate your wisdom."

After she left, Jet turned towards Albert. He realized that they had had a long, serious talk about him while he was gone. He took a deep breath and stood on unsteady feet. Albert grabbed his elbow and helped him to their couches. Albert sat beside him and leaned elbows on his knees.

"You're mad at me?" Jet asked.

"Yes. We don't have the resources to risk on getting injured. It was irresponsible." Jet was about to interrupt, but Albert continued. "I do understand. Women try to be too helpful, sometimes."

"I know. I need my space."

"I know. You need to figure this out on your own," Albert ran his mechanical hand through his graying hair and had an exasperated expression. "So, did you run into your old gang like I'm presuming?"

"Yeah. I was 'jumped out.' I'm rid of them now. Small miracle. No one ever gets jumped out and lives to talk about it."

Albert gave a jerky nod. "Let's get some sleep."

Jet was amazed; Albert understood his motivations, even thought he didn't like the execution. Albert was willing to let him struggle and have his own accomplishments. "Yeah, I'm exhausted."

Albert stood up and turned off the lights. Jet tossed the icepack on the floor and fell over to his side. He let out a groan as his body throbbed in pain.

"Are you okay, Jet?"

"Never better," Jet answered honestly, Albert settled on his couch across the coffee table.

"Good night."

"Nigh," Jet said, wishing his sore body would dull so he could get some sleep.

* * *

"Report," Scar snapped. Fyodor Gamo looked over to his wife as she tugged off her gloves.

"I discovered that 001 has increased in power a great deal. I also discovered that they did this for money and to destroy those plans from Shimamura Electronics. No doubt, a feeble effort to halt Black Ghost's research and development. Their move smacks of desperation. I get the impression they would try to do this again if their money ran out or they foolishly thought they could get some petty revenge."

"Yes," Scar agreed. "What else did you learn."

Dr. Gamo watched his wife's smile spread slowly. "That we have a spy among us. It turns out my son is more clever than I thought. He's been in contact with one of your hardest working scientists."

"Really? Name the dog!"

"Doctor Isaac Gilmore."

Scar slammed his fist down on the arm of his throne, but then Fyodor was baffled. Scar actually started howling in laughter. "Lord Scar?" Dr. Gamo asked.

"This could actually work to our advantage. We will start feeding false information to Gilmore as a test. Then, we'll set a trap."

"Excellent idea," Erika said, nodding.

"You did as I asked?"

"Mr. Kitagawa had a tragic brain hemorrhage after I finished my interrogation. Such a pity, but his young wife and her brother were enthusiastic about guiding Kitagawa's business ventures in a different direction. I believe Mrs. Kitagawa will be an asset to the Merchants of Death," Erika said.

"I'll need you two to remain silent about what you know. Mrs. Gamo, you'll be the one I'll need to subdue 001 and bring him back into the fold. Also, the three other errant Double Zero Cyborg. When they are back under out control, I want you, Dr. Gamo, to give them all lobotomies. I think Dr. Gaea has a point."

"As you wish, Lord Scar," Fyodor answered, stroking his thick, black beard.

To be continued.


	18. Chapter 18

[Quick note: I got the concept with what's happening to Ember's daughter from my husband and his story 'Love Your Mother.' I loved it so much and thought it was brilliant. He kindly allowed me to integrate those ideas with my story. Please give him some love and go check out his story if you haven't already. It's rather gritty, but really high quality.

By the way, sorry this too so long. I was in the middle of summer camps at the museum. Now that the kids are gone... I can pick the pace back up!]

Chapter 18:

"Ah, Gilmore, did you finish the calibrations on the translator instrument?" Fyodor Gamo called out, bursting into Gilmore's lab. The Jewish doctor looked up with a scowl and nodded.

"All but one."

"Good. By the end of this month we'll have a new cash flow, so continue with the upgrades." Fyodor swirled around.

He paused his walk to the door when he heard the question. "Cash flow? I thought all upgrades where halted until the Double Zero Cyborgs were back. I guess that means they're under control?"

Fyodor turned and suppressed his sly smile. He scrutinized Gilmore's eyes. Behind them, was his son; he was sure of it now. However, 001 couldn't stretch his power beyond controlling Gilmore.

Erika said it was because Gilmore had no physic abilities himself, therefore, 001 would be limited. He felt a flare of excitement at the idea of getting his son back; he had to play this right, or Erika would be horribly disappointed. Even though she had a new protégé, the Ember girl wasn't of Gamo flesh and blood.

Fyodor shrugged and gave an annoyed sigh. He glanced around as if preparing to give away a secret. "Some new widow in Japan. Her husband was a Merchant, so she's continuing his work. She's now acting as the middleman for Shimamura Electronics; her brother is the president of the company. They're both Merchants."

"A woman?"

"She has a son to consider." Fyodor cut off the rest of what he wanted to say about doing what was best for one's own son. It would tip 001 off. "Anyway, her brother is going to deliver."

"Really? What could be valuable enough to interest the Black Ghost?" Gilmore asked as he turned back to the small, black box on the electronics bench. He took a tiny screwdriver to one of the edges.

"Don't know, but Scar is talking to him next month in Paris to finish up negotiations." Fyodor couldn't tell the effect, but he shrugged and turned to leave. "I need your report by tomorrow morning."

"Not a problem, Fyodor," Gilmore mumbled.

* * *

"Gilmore has certainly been snooping," Erika said, opening her eyes. "I've been tracking him from a distance. It seems he's been to Dressler and Uranus."

"Those two malcontents!" Fyodor raged, pacing their small apartment in the Black Ghost complex located on Island X. He swirled and held his finger out toward Erika. "I know it's 001 controlling Gilmore. "

"It must have happened as I faced 004. I can't remember everything. He must have broken past my defenses and manipulate my mind. In that case," she said, clenching her brown shawl tighter around her shoulders. "he could even make my sister look weak by comparison."

Fyodor took a deep breath and nodded, barely able to meet his adoring wife's eyes. "Then, my love, we must consider every option to retrieve 0... our son."

Erika squared her shoulder. He laid a hand against her cheek when he saw her troubled, sorrowed expression. "Please, Erika. She's an empty shell now. She's been gone for a very long time."

"Yes, it's just hard."

"But I can graft her into..."

"Papa! Mama! Help me..." The girl then screamed in incredible pain.

Otto Dressler told Fyodor it was because her bones and muscles were still in agony at their accelerated growth. Erika took her to Dressler every day to figure out a cure, but it only made the man more and more reticent towards supporting the Black Ghost at seeing what his formulas had done to the child. Or so Erika had told Fyodor.

Fyodor turned towards Ivan's old room as the girl continued to shriek. Suddenly, their knick-knacks started to wobble. Erika's eyes glowed purple, and the knick-knacks settled. She turned to Fyodor and nodded. "Do what you must. This girl needs more control before we try to recapture Ivan. I want my son back. Katerina would understand, because she also loved Ivan very much."

"I'll leave for Siberia in the morning. While I'm there, feed Gilmore the information about Rhys-Davies. If the Double Zero Cyborgs take the bait, then we can proceed to set up the trap for next month after I finish the brain graft on Ember's daughter."

* * *

"Long time, no see," Jet called out, as Ivan stumbled into the kitchenette and went straight for the cabinet.

"I'll make you something. Go sit down," Frances said, setting aside her crocheting. Minutes later, Ivan joined Albert and Jet in the living-room area. He sat on the end of a sofa. Jet didn't miss how drained he looked; his face was unnaturally pale.

"So what have you found out?" Albert asked, folding up a German newspaper. Jet was glad to see it gone.

The more Albert read about what was going on in split Berlin, the darker his expression became. Then again, the American south was become tense, too, with the Civil Rights Movement. Albert had told him late last night, right before he drifted off on a sofa-turned-bed, that the world had gone mad. Jet then asked how much Albert thought was the Black Ghost's fault. Albert responded that it was like a rabbit hole, no telling how deep it goes. Jet just gritted his teeth in anger at the Black Ghost and miraculously fell asleep.

"Well?" Jet snapped impatiently when Ivan didn't answer right away. The boy started. His face turned dour.

"It seems that Kitagawa's widow and brother-in-law have taken up his business once again."

"That's horrible," Frances said, handing a plate with a sandwich on it to Ivan. She set a tall glass of milk on the coffee table. "I don't believe any woman could have anything to do with harming children."

"It would seem her brother still has some items the Black Ghost wants. Next month, in Paris, Mrs. Kitagawa is going to meet Scar and negotiate on behalf of her brother. You see, they want to help Black Ghost figure out how to reproduce the acceleration device."

Albert leaned forward and looked baffled. "You would think their scientists would have kept good documentation on it, if it were so valuable."

"That was Gilmore. Right before we escaped, he created a lab fire to distract them as you three were moving towards the shore. That's why we showed up later than I anticipated. I wanted every advantage we could gain. That's why Countess Yana wanted Jet to surrender, so she'd have a powerful bargaining chip with the Black Ghost. My guess is they're tired of waiting on catching us, so they want to recreate it, thus eliminating one of our advantages."

"Why doesn't the old coot who slapped it together just make another one?" Jet flopped back on the sofa and stretched his arms across the back it.

"It's a very complicated device. There were eight scientist who contributed to it. They don't know each other because they would work on one piece and then it was passed on to the next, and the Black Ghost wanted to keep it that way so they could control ownership to the device. Fortunately, Gilmore was one of them. We have that one advantage. Gilmore was able to figure out who another one was. He's died from a heart attack six months ago. That will buy us some more time. I asked Gilmore to sabotage all efforts, if they get that far along."

"So we have to go after them? And we don't even have a clue who they are? Impossible," Jet snapped again, getting irritated with Ivan's indirectness.

"No, I believe Gilmore can manage them for now. What we need is to concentrate on our next target."

"Who is it?" Jet asked

"Wait a minute. We have enough money to live on for a while. Shouldn't we travel to France?" Frances asked, picking up her crocheting again.

"Actually, it'll get us closer to France. We need to go to London. A man named Thomas Rhys-Davis is in the United Nations; he's a popular diplomat. He's very pivotal to the Black Ghost's plans."

"The UN? But they're trying to promote peace between the nations. Why would a diplomat help them? Does he sabotage peace efforts?" Frances asked. Jet could tell she was annoyed by her jerky crocheting and furrowed brow. He figured she wanted to find her brother; and the Kitagawa thing next month was a great excuse to get them closer to finding Jean-Paul.

"No doubt," Albert said.

"Well, how much dough can we expect from this heist?" Jet asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Nothing. We just expose him as an arms dealer. He sells them in an effort to escalate tensions in Vietnam. After he's taken care of, we can then go to France and stop Kitagawa. We can look for Jean-Paul while we wait and plan for her," Ivan said.

"I guess it'd be fun to see one of them go to the slammer," Jet said, getting more agreeable to the idea. After all, striking the Black Ghost always appealed to Jet.

"It's a good idea to take care of him right now before he can ship more guns to Vietnam. The war is increasing over there, and with these guns, it'll get even more deadly and can spread. The ultimate goal of the Black Ghost organization is to cause world wide wars and chaos."

"I see," Frances murmured. She nodded. "I'll help, of course. War is such an ugly thing."

"We're all in," Albert said, glancing at Ivan. "We'll hit him next week. After we do this, we'll move on to France." Albert then turned his eyes to Jet; he felt uncomfortable under Albert's scrutiny. "We may not be back to New York for a while, depending on our situation."

"I understand," Jet said. He then stood up, got bundled in his coat, and left the apartment quietly.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Jet snapped, seeing Albert trail behind him in the darkened alleyway.

"Last time you came back in bad shape."

Jet was about to snarl a tart remark, but he saw Albert's ice-blue eyes crinkle as he slowly smiled. Jet snorted, shoved his hands in his pocket, and mumbled, "What's it to you?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to see if you needed any company."

"No!"

"I didn't figure you would. Just get back soon so we can make plans on the best way to frame this guy," Albert said, before turning back towards the apartment door.

"Wait! Al, I do have a question."

The older man paused and turned to face Jet again, an eyebrow raised.

Jet took a deep, frosty gulp of air and asked, "So do you want to go back to West Berlin?"

"Not now. I'm not ready to see that wall," Albert said dryly.

"How do you know?"

"When it's time to confront your past? You've already started. Is this about your parents?"

"Maybe," Jet shrugged, looking down at his shoes. "What were your folks like?"

"Mine? My father was a solider, and my mother was a musician. My father was very strict man, but he was doing his best in some really dark times. He served in North Africa as a tank driver. That's where he was killed."

"Really? You never told me that," Jet said, after shaking off his daze.

"You never asked."

"What about your ma?"

"She was a very lovely woman, but very somber and quite. She died during the Dressden fire bombings right before I turned fifteen. I lived with my great-aunt for a while."

"Did you... Do you still feel mad at the people who killed your parents?" Jet asked. He was wondering why he felt worn out, rather than angry, as he thought about his parents during this last day.

"Not any more. For a long time, I carried around a lot of hatred towards... well... Americans and well... I was pretty down about humanity in general." Albert looked slightly abashed, but also earnest. "I realized after I got married to Hilda that it would poison my relationships with everyone. It was making me tired to hold such a grudge. I also could see how the older people, like my Aunt Gertrud, were eaten up with bitterness. I didn't want to be like them."

"Aren't you still angry with what happened to... your wife?" Jet found it hard to say Hilda's name. He felt it would be disrespectful in some way because he never met the woman, and it had taken so long for Albert to become a little more informal.

"It's still feels so soon, but sometimes it feels like it was decades ago."

"That car accident wasn't your fault. You should forgive yourself," Jet said.

"So should you. About the things you did as a member of a gang." Rather than get defensive, Jet nodded and shoved his fists in his coat pockets.

Albert gave a brief nod and quick pat on Jet's shoulder. He gave Jet a smirk and said, "Try not to get into trouble."

He turned and left Jet standing alone in the crisp evening air. Jet shook off his heavy thoughts and turned to walk down the New York streets, taking in the atmosphere as if it would be the last time.

* * *

"So you're off?" Frank asked. Jet hated the way Frank was eying their green uniforms.

"Yeah... well... we got stuff to do. Are we square?"

"Yeah, as I see it, I owe you four more months of free rent. I don't want to gyp family, so when you're back in town, you can crash here."

"I know, Franco, and we'll probably be back sooner than you think."

"Sure, I'll keep a space free for you, and I didn't tell Antonia or Guy you were here. Sure you don't want to talk to them?"

"Like I said, I'm into some dangerous shit." Jet slowly shook his head, knowing he wasn't quite ready for that conversation yet. "It wouldn't only put them in danger so you'll need to keep it under your hat."

"Okay, take care." Frank took the key back from Jet. "Can I give you lift to the train station?"

"No, we have a ride."

Jet shook his beefy hand and left out of the door, each cyborg carrying a small battered suitcase. He lead them through the maze of New York buildings to an empty alleyway. After Frances gave the nod, indicating no one was around to see them, a thick blue mist enveloped Jet.

Darkness and then a slight crushing sensation happened to his body. When he opened his eyes, he saw a huge clock tower and a massive river running thought a very old city. What disoriented him the most was that it was early morning a few seconds ago, now it was afternoon.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that," he griped, shaking off the dizziness.

"More efficient than flying," Ivan replied. Frances gave a slight chuckle, and Jet felt his face go hot.

"Hey! Did you just make a dig at me?"

"Seems he did... Gianni Alessandro," Albert said, smacking Jet on the shoulder, a smirk playing at the German's mouth. "Come on, let's get set up."

Albert, Frances, and Ivan walked down a London street with Jet trailing after them. "I told you to never call me that! Especially the whole stinking thing!"

* * *

"Everyone clear?" Albert asked the other three cyborgs. They each nodded. "Good luck."

"Are you ready?" Ivan asked Frances. She laid her hand on his thin shoulder and they disappeared into the foggy, London night.

"Let's go play the heavies," Jet said, a wicked smile crossing his lips. Albert nodded his head, removed his gloves, and waved Jet in the direction of the old pier. It wasn't long before they found a wide open door to a warehouse. In the darkness, five men slouched around two large crates marked 'Vietnam' on the sides.

Rather than make a subtle entrance, Albert lofted his right hand and aimed above their heads. He let out a burst of bullets. The five men dove to the ground in confusion and tried to draw their guns. Jet drew his ray gun and shook his head.

"Don't even think about it, fellas," Jet called out. Albert walked in, eyes cautious; Jet trailed after him. "Alright, who's the boss-man?"

None of them spoke up. Albert aimed his hand at a chair and blew it to splinters. "Someone better answer my partner's question before I start using you guys for target practice."

"Don't shoot that thing any more!" One of the men with a heavy mustache shouted out in a thick British accent.

"See, I knew they'd be reasonable," Jet smirked and grabbed the guy by the elbow.

Albert went over and grabbed another chair. "The rest of you better not move a muscle." He kicked their guns across the concrete floor and placed the chair by the desk with a telephone. Jet hauled the man over and forced him to sit in the chair.

Jet turned to cover the four other men while Albert moved the rotary dial telephone towards the boss. "Call Rhys-Davies and tell him to get down here or he'll loose his whole shipment."

"What? I can't! How do you about him?"

"None of your business. Call," Albert said, holding out the black, shiny receiver to the man. The shaking man took the phone and dialed the rotor, the clicks sounded loud to Albert.

"Yes, sir. There is an emergency... I know I'm not supposed to call, but there are two men down here demanding to see you... I don't know that, sir, but they're threatening to take the shipment... I know, but they... you just have to see them to understand why... yes, sir..." The man looked up at Albert and held out the receiver toward him. "He wants to talk to you."

Albert snatched the receiver and held it to his ear. "Speak."

Rhys-Davies said, "Who are you!"

"No friend of yours. Get down here in twenty minutes or my partner and I will throw every gun in the Thames."

"Do you know how much they're worth, you bloody idiot!"

"Not much if they're waterlogged. Bring no one. Twenty minutes!" Albert slammed the receiver down and shoved the boss down with the rest of the men.

"Think Frannie can do it?" Jet whispered in German before Albert started pacing.

"For sure. Don't worry about her. Ivan is with her," Albert replied in his native tongue.

Just as Albert predicted, Frances and Ivan appeared in a glowing blue flash ten minutes after the call. She jogged over to Albert and handed him three reels of audio tape. "Here it is."

"Good, girl. Was it difficult?" Albert asked, examining the reels.

"Not at all. Listing to the clicks as I turned the safe dial was very easy." She glanced over at Jet, giving him a disapproving look. "Your cousin Frank turned out to be a very informative person."

"Hey, looks like you're a good student," Jet retorted in smooth French. Her face flushed and she looked absolutely embarrassed; it cause Jet to chuckle. Jet lurched forward slightly as if he were shoved by something.

"Watch it kid!" Jet snarled with a glare at Ivan. Albert looked over, and indeed, Ivan's eye was glowing brightly and his expression was both hostile and dour.

"Enough," Albert snapped. He couldn't risk letting Jet rile Ivan up or visa-a-versa. "The person..."

"... I called will be here in three minutes. I can feel him getting closer. Rhys-Davies is still ten minutes away," Ivan answered every question before Albert had a chance to ask them.

"Good. Go greet your guest, and we'll handle Rhys-Davies," Albert ordered, handing the tape reels to the Russian. Ivan turned and walked back out of the warehouse, tossing nasty looks towards Jet. Jet, to his credit, just ignored Ivan.

Albert looked around the warehouse and found a small door. He went and opened it, glad to see it only held a bunch of janitorial supplies. "Jet, bring those guys over here."

"You heard the man! Get your lazy asses up," Jet snarled, mock kicking towards the leg of one of the men.

They all rose cautiously with raised hands. Jet shoved them towards the janitorial closet. Albert slammed it shut. He turned the knob down to lock the door and turned towards Jet just as Frances called out that Rhys-Davies had pulled up.

They joined Frances by the crates and waited. A man in a light brown suit walked in, puffing on a cigar. He looked them over, his steely eyes fixed on Albert. "I came alone, but there are people who know where I am. Don't waste my time and just tell me what the hell you want! I don't even know who you people are!"

"We won't. We'll make this quick. We know who, or rather, what you are. You're a Merchant of Death."

"You know?" Rhys-Davies looked shocked as his skin paled in the dim light.

"Yes, we also know you're going to sell these guns to Vietnam. A lot of innocent people will get killed if you do that," Frances burst out.

"You're puerile. Do you think getting rid of these guns will stop what's going on there? Someone else, another Merchant, will come along after me."

"And we'll keep attacking the Black Ghost and you Merchants at every turn," Albert said. "Now is your night. Ivan, bring in your guest!"

Ivan walked in beside a young man in a rumpled suit; a large flash camera hung around his neck. "This is a legitimate scoop. Wow, a diplomat!"

"Yes, and the tapes my friend was able to get from his safe are what he uses to blackmail people in the United Nations. Those crates have illegal arms headed towards Vietnam. You should be able to write a large article..."

Albert flinched when he saw Rhys-Davies bolt towards the door. Seconds later, the man was laying on the ground, Jet hovering over him with a raised fist. "Idiot."

"The police are on their way," Frances said.

"Good. Jet, tie that man up to the pillar over there," Albert said and turned to the young man with the camera. "Ivan spent some time seeking someone we could use. He told you the conditions?"

"Are you kidding? I'll loose a little memory, but I'll be famous."

"Fine," Albert said. Jet joined him, brushing off his hands after doing Albert's bidding. "Our work is done."

"Just relax," Ivan told the young man. He held up his hand, his eye glowing. "You'll not remember us at all after we teleport away. All you know is that someone called in an anonymous tip, and you decided to check it out. You found these..." Ivan put the tape reels in the young man's hand. "... on the desk, but you need to hide them for your story. The police will just destroy them."

The young man nodded, appearing disoriented as he stuffed the reels in this jacket pocket. Ivan turned to Albert.

"Let's go to France," Albert said, laying his left hand on Frances's shoulder. She looked up at him with a smile right before darkness overtook them.

* * *

"It's finished," Fyodor declared, yanking down his surgical mask. He waved his wife into the room after mopping his sweaty brow.

She walked in and immediately went over to the young, mutated girl on the cold table. "Your sister's brain, or what was left of the psychic portions, turned out to be a great help. They naturally blended in with the Ember girl's brain. She'll need a few days to orient herself, but then you can train her as you wish."

The girl's coal colored hair was tied in pigtails; the faintest seam was down the middle of her head, front to back. Freckles showed even more clearly against her pale skin.

"You think she'll also be more pliant." It was a statement, not a question, which indicate his wife was impatient and reading his surface thoughts.

"Yes, Erika. She'll be able to compete with Ivan as well. Speaking of which..."

_:Yes, my darling. They took the Rhys-Davies bait. Unfortunately, there was some reporter that our controlled police couldn't get to in time. Now the man has gone underground. No matter. Rhys-Davies can be replaced.:_ Erika gingerly stroked the girl's forehead._ :My son can't be replaced. The Kitagawa woman is aware of the plans and the exact date and time has been leaked to Gilmore. March 15 at 3:00 in the afternoon.:_

Fyodor chuckled. _:The Ides of March? You have a touch of irony, my dear.:_

To be continued.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen:

"It's over that hill," Frances said, practically jogging with her male companions trailing behind her. They were each dressed in regular street clothes to their taste, and each carried their ray guns concealed. Their uniforms and belongings were already stored at a train station locker.

Her heart thumped so hard in excitement at being at her family's seaside cottage in Calais. She was also afraid of what she'd find, but she needed to know what had become of Jean-Paul.

She could see through the hill with her enhanced eyes; she could also smell the musty odor mixed with old smoke damage. She froze and Jet almost slammed into her back.

"No! Something is wrong!" She then ran as fast as she could over the hill to the front of the cottage. It was nothing more than a burned out husk, utterly destroyed, without a trace of anything left.

She swirled, covered her face with her delicate hands, and sank to her knees. She felt a firm hand on her shoulder and looked up at Albert's concerned face. "We'll go look around the neighborhood and see what we can find. Wait here, because I don't want people to recognize you. It could help the Black Ghost track us. Do you think you can go through what's left for any clues?"

France tried to swallow, in spite of her choked feeling; she nodded as he helped her to her feet. She stumbled towards the destroyed cottage as hot tears streamed down her face. So many pleasant memories of her family and the vacations they'd had here flooded her mind, distracting her from the task at hand.

She stood in ankle to waist high rubble. She carefully moved about, finally finding an object worth looking at under an overturned coffee table. Frances sank to her knees, feeling the rough edges of a leathery book. It was dank and moldy, but she recognized her mother's small photo album. None of the photos remained unscathed, but there was one dingy, crumpled photo when she was just ten and Jean-Paul was almost seventeen. They stood with their parents in front of this very cottage, all looking tanned and happy.

She took the one, surviving photo out gingerly. She didn't startle when she heard footsteps behind her; it was Albert. Frances stood and launched herself into his arms with perfect timing.

"Is he dead?"

Albert held her at a slight distance by the forearms. "Not as far as we found out." Jet and Ivan came jogging up at that moment; Albert parted from her and turned to the youngest two cyborgs. "Jet, take Ivan and find us a place to stay. Quickly. I'm going to help Frances here."

"But..."

Frances didn't miss Albert's glower, shutting Jet's arguments off. Jet glared back, but it was Ivan she was noticing now. He was clutching his head, there was a slight tremble running through his body. She even noticed a faint trickle of crimson under his nose.

Jet shook his head and tersely waved at Ivan. "Get a move on, kid!"

Ivan walked after Jet on shaky legs. She could tell the Russian boy refused to look at her by his stoic expression. Albert touched her shoulder after they left.

* * *

"I don't fucking know! Quit busting my chops, sauerkraut!"

Albert took a deep breath and quelled his impulse to beat the New Yorker within an inch of his life. Instead, he said low, through clenched teeth, and in German, "Then you go find him! Now! And don't you come back without him!"

Jet grabbed his jacket, flipped Albert off, a sneer on his face, and stormed out of the small beach-side rental cottage five blocks away from the Arnoul summer cottage.

Albert looked over to where Frances was sitting on the couch, looking utterly distraught. He sat down on the other side of the couch, leaning over, elbows on knees. The wall-clock's ticks were starting to be drowned out by the increasing patter of rain.

"Albert..."

"He's such an irresponsible jackass," Albert growled, glancing at Frances.

"No, he's very responsible, but Ivan is his own person. How was Jet supposed to stop him? Don't you really understand Ivan may even be older than you?"

Albert shook his head. "I don't think about it. But you're right, it wasn't Jet's fault." Albert sighed, tried suppressing his guilt at berating Jet so harshly.

"Frances, I'm not sure where your brother went to, but we'll search for him tomorrow morning. I swear I'll find him."

She slid over and tried to lay her hand on his, but he jerked it away seconds before she touched it. It would seem like such an atrocity to let her take comfort from the part of him that was designed for death and destruction. Her face flushed and her aqua eyes met his.

"Albert, my mind keeps going to horrible things. What if he's not dead? What if the Black Ghost have him? What then? What if they..." Frances gasped slightly and her hand flew to her lips to keep the rest inside.

"Don't cave in to despair, Frances." Albert took a deep breath and relied on that same logic his father used to teach him over countless chess games. "When Ivan gets back, we'll ask him to search Gilmore's mind. He'll find out if your brother is there."

She bolted off the couch and shot a dark look at him with a furrowed brow. "And then what? What if he is on Island X... Ghost Island... whatever they call it? What can we do? Nothing!"

"We can do something! We escaped there; we could raid it if we had to. We need to know what we're facing. Your brother is a thinking fellow. He could be steps in front of any Black Ghost agents chasing him. We need to wait or we could make false moves that could place us, or him, in danger."

Her breath was unsteady, her head slowly sank downwards as her cheeks glistened. He felt torn in five thousand pieces at a woman's tears. It was the same with Frances crying as it was with Hilda; only it was a fraternal feeling, rather than romantic, that drove his impulse to comfort her.

He went and and was careful to lay his left arm around her shoulder. He knew there was nothing to say at the loss of the only bit of family left, that's why he let her weep as he held her and rubbed her shoulders.

Eventually, lightning illuminated the room, followed by loud cracks. He repressed another sigh and his worry over his two male companions. He hoped Jet's common sense, rather than his hot head, would guide him, and Ivan, back in one piece.

* * *

"Ivan! Damn it! Get your ass back here! I know you hear me, you little creep!" Jet wailed towards the rainy sky. He stood on a grassy hill several miles away from the rental cottage Jet was able to secure with some American dollars.

After he had secured the cottage, Ivan had had the nerve to tell Jet he had better be nice to Frances when Albert brought her around. Jet told Ivan to cram it. Ivan, in return, had launched Jet off-shore without aid of his rockets.

Jet flew back, top speed, and grabbed Ivan by the shirt collar. He was going to just threaten to kick the Russian kid's butt; he would never really lay a finger on Ivan, but the kid had to know his place. Before Jet could say a word, Ivan disappeared. Jet just growled and marched back to the Arnoul cottage.

He was busy with anger at Ivan until Albert jumped his case. Jet really resented it and told Albert to go screw himself. By the time they got to the rental cottage, Jet was tired of hearing Albert's nagging voice; he accepted the unfair recrimination, and he left to find the errant, psychic cyborg. Now it was raining, and Jet couldn't decide who he was most pissed off at of the three he was trapped with.

"Ivan, you little son-of-a... well... a pair of nut cases! I mean it!"

_:And what are you going to do? Continue to scream at the sky like an idiot?:_

Jet swirled around to see Ivan floating in midair surrounded by a blue haze, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Jet lumbered forward, glaring, and snarled, "Get your ass to the hideout now! You're the one being an idiot!"

Ivan's eyes narrowed, his right eye glowed brighter. _:Not until you promise to treat Frances with more respect. I'm sick of the way you treat her!:_

Jet sensed the advantage, so he shot Ivan a smug look and crossed his arms as well. Jet didn't want to be the one to confront Ivan about this, but Jet knew it would be kinder to get it over with than let Albert dance around the topic. "That's right. Your little puppy crush. Should have known. Why don't you get it through your head, even if you looked as old as me, she still wouldn't look at you."

Ivan drifted to the ground, marched over to Jet, and glared upwards. "Go ahead and say why! I can read your mind!"

Jet flinched a little; Ivan looked on the edge of one of his nervous breakdowns. Jet almost second guessed his actions, but he knew he was on the right track. He just had to be gentle. He nodded and finally admitted in a somber tone, after slicking back his rain soaked, scarlet hair, "She is afraid of your abilities. You're powerful, and you seem to get more so everyday."

"It's not fair," Ivan mumbled, lowering his face.

Jet shook his head and sighed. "Nothing is fair. Life really sucks. So what? Get your shit together already. The things we're into now are too big for you to act like some candy ass mooning over some dame. Give it up about Frances, or I'll have to have a talk with her 'bout you."

Ivan lifted his face up and gave Jet a scrutinizing look, that eye was still glowing a deep sapphire. _:You're trying to get my mind off of self-pity by encouraging me to grow a hard, apathetic shell. Even so, you don't have one. It's your way of protecting me, 'making me a man,' as you would say. You let your emotions toss around inside of you, just like me.:_

"Shut the hell up, Ivan," Jet snapped, feeling his face grow blazing hot against the cool raindrops.

"A truce?"

"Fine, King's X. I won't shove your nose in it about Frannie, and I won't make any more chops at her. But you better stop tossing me over the ocean."

"Channel."

"Channel! Whatever!" All Jet could do was give a shaky nod as he quelled his anger at Ivan. He knew he had pressed his luck confronting Ivan. He knew deep down Ivan could do a lot of damage. He shook off his train of thought in favor of finishing fixing what was in front of him.

"Still, kid, you got to face it. I know you have it bad for Frances, but you need to deal with it. You're the one who wants to make sure things work smooth. This could make things hard. I mean, my gang had a rule, no taking other guys' sisters necking. Kind of think of it like that. It'd be bad for the group if any of us were to make the moves on Frances."

Ivan nodded and sighed with defeat. "You know, with all my power I can't make some someone love me. I don't understand it."

"Listen... I don't know about that mushy... well... love stuff. It's beyond me too."

"I need to think of the bigger picture, but it's still so hard when I don't have total control over my empathy." Jet smacked Ivan on the shoulder and nodded towards the rental cottage. Ivan gave Jet a serious look with a slightly bashful expression before asking, "So how do you repress your feelings towards someone you're attracted to?"

Jet felt shaky. His first inclination was to think Ivan read his mind totally and was prying into some of Jet's deepest secrets. He though it through for a minute and realized that Ivan wouldn't be asking advice if he knew everything in Jet's mind; it was just a general question. He felt a wave of relief that Ivan did respect boundaries.

"I don't know. Find someone else? I mean, I've only been out with a few girls in my time. I'm no expert like Al," Jet snapped slightly; he'd always preferred talking cars, baseball, or fights, not talking about girls.

"We do have a lot in common. I didn't realize how much until now. With our parents? Wanting things we can never have?"

For a moment, Jet wondered if the Russian had indeed pried into his mind, but he shrugged it off nervously. He then realized, or gave a fervent hope, that Ivan was referring to Jet's propensity towards theft.

"Yeah." Jet threw his arm around Ivan's shoulders and guided him back to the rental property.

* * *

When they entered the rental property, soaked head-to-toe, Jet had a surprise. Albert and Frances stood in the middle of the room; Albert was comforting her. He felt an unpleasant jolt within his stomach at the sight, a kind of loneliness, but it was the suddenly rising room temperature and shattering wall-clock that made Jet flinch.

He looked over to see Ivan was trembling, his fists were clenched and his eyes were locked onto the two oldest cyborgs. Albert and Frances jumped apart at the loud crack. Jet noticed neither seemed to have guilty expressions or nervous body movements. He reassessed his thought and saw it was purely innocent.

Still, he wished Albert had better judgment, knowing about Ivan's crush on Frances. Obviously, Ivan wasn't thinking rationally at the moment, or using his telepathy to figure things out Jet could plainly see by observation.

Jet flopped down on the sofa, in spite of his wet clothes, as a vase flew towards Albert's head. He was impressed when Albert caught it and set it aside. Jet suspected he was going to enjoy watching Albert squirm for once.

"Ivan! What's wrong with you?" Albert snapped.

"That's why you had me and Jet go? So you could..." Ivan sputtered for a few moments.

Jet, with a wide smile, supplied, "...make time with..." Albert shot him the briefest of lethal glowers.

"...Frances?" Ivan finished.

"Ivan, you should know better," Frances spoke up. "Albert is a good friend. Just like you are."

"Listen, Frances has a lot on her mind. You need to let it go so she can concentrate on her brother. This is very selfish on your part," Albert said, crossing his arms. Jet admired the steely gaze he threw at Ivan.

Jet agreed with Albert when he glanced over at Frances; she appeared utterly exhausted and grief stricken. He knew this had to be hashed out between Ivan and Albert now, but Frances certainly didn't need this.

Ivan's lips clenched, and he nodded, looking more angry than Jet had ever seen. The Russian boy fled to the back of the cottage, opened a door, and retreated to one of the small bedrooms. Jet watched Frances retreat to the other one seconds later.

Rather than say something he would consider clever, Jet rose and started peeling off his soggy jacket. Albert started pacing, Jet could tell the German man was in deep thought, and he knew better than to push his luck when he was in this mode.

Jet could tell Albert pointedly ignored him when he grabbed a deck of cards, sat on the sofa, and started dealing out solitaire. Jet huffed exasperated at everyone around him and stormed into the bathroom, the only place left for privacy in the small cottage. He finished stripping down and ran a hot shower.

* * *

"It's all in place. I'll bring back 001 no matter what," Erika said, as Fyodor looked over towards the secret helicopter scheduled to take his wife and her prodigy towards mainland China; they would then catch a plane to Paris. Only Scar knew about this surreptitious trip to set the trap with Mrs. Kitagawa.

"Be careful, my darling. 001 doesn't know what he's doing. Those others have twisted his mind, I just know it. When you bring him back we will... correct him. We will correct all of them," Fyodor replied. He glanced over at the emaciated girl standing close by his wife's side; she looked petrified, but Erika had assured him the girl would do her job better without a lobotomy . Still, he hated to admit he didn't know every ramification of grafting Katerina's brain into the girl's. Time would tell.

"Don't worry about me, sweetheart. A mother knows when a son needs her. I had a strong impression last night. Now is the time."

"Good. Once you have them, contact me and then we can arrest Gilmore for his treachery." Fyodor leaned over and gave his wife a quick peck on the cheek.

She turned to the girl and buttoned up the top button on her coat. "Come with me, Ann. It's time to get the Double Zero Cyborgs back."

"My daddy? And the oaf? The countess and the twins?" she whispered, Fyodor barely catching it.

Erika bent over slightly to get at eye-level with the apparent twelve year old. "Now, dear, they are all safe so long as you do everything I ask of you. Remember? It's the Double Zero Cyborgs' fault that you lost your mother and the others were placed in storage. Lord Scar had no choice."

Fyodor didn't miss the glistening of tears in the girl's light brown eyes; he once again marveled at his wife's ability to create the world she want others to see, but he knew a child was really no challenge to her. Erika patted the girl under the chin and gently ordered in a cooing voice, "No tears, my precious. Only they cry, not you. Madam Erika doesn't like to see children cry."

The girl nodded and swiped her tears away. Erika flashed the child a brilliant smile and took her hand. His wife turned her head towards Fyodor, gave him a warm smile, and tugged the girl to the helicopter.

As the helicopter took off, Fyodor felt optimistic about their chance at getting 001 back.

* * *

Frances looked up, her shoulders tense, as Albert walked back into the cottage. Jet and Ivan trailed behind him. She was hopeful until Albert shook his head and took off his hat.

"It's been a week, and we've searched this whole town," Albert said. "Your brother told them all you had passed away, no doubt to throw the Black Ghost off. We did find something out. Today."

Frances sat up straighter and clasped her hands on top of her light green skirt. This had been the most any of them had spoken in the week they've been in Calais. She spent her time hiding in her room, reading, knitting, and doing dance exercises.

Ivan had been locked in his claimed room when not out with Albert and Jet looking for Jean-Paul. As for Albert and Jet, Frances heard only the most necessary words exchanged when they had to communicate with each other. Albert kept his nose buried in books and newspaper when not searching the streets. Jet spent his time making paper airplanes, even a couple of origami folds Kozumi had shown him, and card houses by the gross.

Albert sat beside her, while Jet and Ivan took seats across a coffee table. She didn't like Albert's troubled expression. "It seems your brother was here, but disappeared the night the attack happened. His body wasn't found. The police suspect Jean-Paul of setting the fire and disappearing. They want to find him for questioning. They even want to ask him about your whereabouts."

"However, I believe the Black Ghost did it and chased your brother off. They may be influencing the police," Ivan added.

Jet glared at Ivan and said, "We have no proof of that it was Black Ghost, but I wouldn't put it past them."

Albert leaned forward and asked, "Is there any other place he would go?"

Frances took a deep breath and ran through all the options. She shook her head and said, "He has friends all over France, Belgium, Switzerland... He's flown so many places that I wouldn't even know."

"Then he's hiding. I checked with Gilmore this morning. The Black Ghost still hasn't mentioned him." Ivan had a dark expression. "It's time we move on to Paris." Frances gasped and didn't miss the sinister expressions Jet and Albert turned Ivan's way. He glowed back and then faced Frances again. "We must move on. Jean-Paul is no longer here, and we have a narrow window for disrupting Kitagawa's negotiation with the Black Ghost. We need to leave tomorrow."

"You're a heartless little prick," Jet mumbled. "You could have let Albert..."

"Albert wasn't going to be direct. Aren't you the one who told me, 'nothing is fair. Life really sucks.'? And didn't you also say, 'The things we're into now are too big for you to act like some...' well... you know the rest. Take your own advice for once and toughen up," Ivan said, causing Frances to involuntarily shudder.

A deep sorrow came over her, hearing Ivan sink into someone he wasn't. She glanced over at Albert as Jet snarled and shouted, "You little freak! Why don't you..."

Frances let the rest of Jet's tirade fade into the background as worry overcame her. It was for Albert, who slumped, defeated, while he stared at the plain, gold ring dangling from a chain around his neck. He had it in his hand and was focused on it. She wondered what was going through his mind; was he asking Hilda what to do, or was he cursing the Black Ghost for taking her from him.

His head jerked up and he stood. Jet and Ivan both grew quiet. Albert tucked the ring under his shirt and said, "We go to Paris tomorrow. Everyone get ready here. I'm going for the train tickets."

With that, Albert put on his jager hat and left. Frances rose, happy to have something she could busy herself with: cleaning, packing, and organizing. She kept clear of her companions as much as she could. She secretly hoped Jean-Paul had gone back to Paris. She saw this as an opportunity to continue her search, but she was deeply disturbed that the police were hunting him.

She resisted her impulse to march down to the police and try to clear Jean-Paul's good name. Frances knew it would be the quickest way for the Black Ghost to find them. What she knew in her heart was that she was going to take the first opportunity to leave the other three cyborgs.

* * *

"I don't want the Shimamura name out there any more. Besides, you have to think of your son, now that he's motherless," Hitomi Kitagawa said firmly to her brother. However, Takuma Shimamura was looking through the nursery window at the tiny bundle, the newborn, Akira Shimamura. Takuma's older sister had an excellent bit of advice, as usual.

Takuma turned to his sister, reluctantly, and nodded. "We have to be very covert and distance our family name from any Merchants of Death dealings. Our children are due the best, I want to make sure they get it free of obvious taint."

It never ceased to strike him how her voice was stoic, devoid of emotions, as usual; she saved emotions for her film career and publicity with orphans. Now was no different as she turned to little Akira and said, "That girl you married was weak to die in child birth. She was just like the fool I married. Let's hope our children haven't inherited anything from them besides money and power."

"You're right. The name Shimamura needs to fade away in the electronics industry. I'll take moves to rename it Masamura when you're in France."

"In honor of our mother's family? Wonderful. It'll keep our businesses as Merchants of Death as far from our public persona as possible. Speaking of which, I'll hold a press conference when I get back. I'll announce that I need to step down from the 'High Low' film project for next year. I've recommended Kyoko Kagawa to Kurosawa. It was a good part, but in the long run, the publicity I can gain by helping out my bereaved brother raise his son for a year will get me in a better position. No one will deny me another film role after that's accredited to my public persona."

"Things are turning up. If the Black Ghost accepts my improvised designs, they'll pay handsomely for it."

"We'll build up the Kitagawa and Shimamura fortunes. You'll watch Ryu for me while I get our affairs in order in France. Helping catch the Double Zero Cyborgs will give us an edge over the other Merchants. Then I'll play nursemaid while working on developing our underground connections. There's a new opportunity for gun trade, now that Rhys-Davies is out of the picture. I'll get the Vietnamese clients, but you need to find a way to deal with any competitor."

"Don't worry, sister," he flashed her a warm smile. "I have your husband's men paid off. They're now happier with me than old Hondo. After the year is up, you can go back to being the film idol."

Her face broke that callous expression into a cool arrogance. This was a face she didn't use around anyone except her closest family. Takuma doubted Hondo had even seen it, even after ten years of marriage. Maybe he had seen it before that Russian woman assassinated him.

Hitomi nodded, put on her sunglasses, and turn to leave. He took one glance at his son and left quickly, knowing Hitomi wouldn't tolerate the same slack in him that she had indulged with her husband. After all, she made good friends with the Black Ghost Russians, and they were not to be crossed.

* * *

Frances thought she'd feel a sense of comfort and homeliness being in Paris once again, but it was as strange to her as New York was. That only made the urge to leave her three male companions even stronger, so she would have a chance at finding herself again, like she was before her cybornization.

Thinking of her three male companions, she looked over at them disembarking the train. Jet was first, wearing bluejeans and a black leather jacket. Albert was next, wearing a navy, three piece suit that was twenty years out of style. Ivan was more non-descriptive, in a black turtleneck sweater and a gray overcoat. Each of them carried a small suitcase, small because they've learned to travel light.

She looked down at her own cream, haute couture dress with tan high-heels. She adjusted the small, tan pillbox hat on her golden hair. She had ditched her habitual headband so she could up-sweep her hair in a more sophisticated look.

No, none of them belonged together, judging by their appearance. Frances knew, on an even deeper level, none of them belonged together. It wasn't meant to last, and she wanted the bonds forced between them torn asunder.

They quickly found the train station's lockers and stored their baggage away. Frances slipped her key in her handbag beside her ray gun. She wasn't taking chances any longer.

"We've got plenty of work to do. Let's go to the hotel and get set up," Albert barked, not looking at any of them. Ivan and Jet both stalked after him; Frances followed slowly, looking at every face, hoping to see Jean-Paul's.

When they arrived at a posh hotel, Ivan out stretched his hand towards the clerk and said, "You'll believe everything he tells you and believe everything he says."

The balding clerk nodded, his eyes dazed. Albert stepped forward and took off his jager hat. "Did a Japanese woman check in yesterday? The name Kitagawa?"

"Yes, sir," the clerk mumbled.

"Good. My niece, nephews, and I want a room right beside hers," Albert said. Jet snorted, Frances guessed at Albert's absurd claim they were all related by blood. Yes, she did admit, they were related now by circuits and artificial flesh.

The clerk went through the machinations and registered them. When he held out his hand, Albert said, "I just paid you. You handed back my credit card with the name Heinrich Stoller on it. Use that name only."

"Yes, sir." The clerk slid the fifth floor key towards Albert and nodded numbly. Ivan raised his hand and the clerk shook his head; the four of them hurried to the elevators.

She followed them towards their room. Albert let them in. They ended up sitting in a loose circle on the floor.

"The Black Ghost agent will be here to meet with Mrs. Kitagawa in a few minutes. Frances and Ivan will cover the door. Jet and I will break in through the window and take the electronics schematics. After we destroy them, we'll retreat to Monte Carlo."

"You promised we'd stay," Frances blurted out before she consciously thought the words. He turned a steely gaze towards her.

"We can't," he said. Frances caught the slight air of remorse in his voice.

Her resentment at her lot in life, the men she was with, and the Black Ghost all boiled over at Albert; he was just too cool, too handy, and almost too apathetic. Frances needed him to know how she felt; she lashed out. "You don't care, since you have no family any more! Well, I do!" She hissed in an angry whisper, unable to stop her fury. "That's why I'm staying here after all this is done."

Albert paled, his head tilted downwards, but he didn't say a word. Jet glared at her and snarled, "Not now, you little idiot. They'll be here in a moment, so stuff it."

_:Quiet, everyone! Kitagawa is in the next room, and I sense someone on the elevator,:_ Ivan demanded mentally. The three of them looked at Ivan, his eye glowed brilliantly in the dark room.

"We'll talk afterwards," Albert said coolly to Frances and stood up. He jerked his head to the window and said, "Jet."

"Coming, mother," Jet sneered, rolling his eyes. Jet popped the window open and slid out to the ledge with a grace close to Frances's. Albert shed his coat, hat, and gloves; he then followed Jet out onto the ledge and shut the window.

_:Frances?:_

She turned her attention to where Ivan had his forehead resting against the door. She walked over to him and asked in a soft voice, "What is it?"

_:There is someone familiar to me on that elevator. I don't know... someone I've met before, but I don't know. The person seems... slow witted or... something. The mind is not right.:_

Frances shrugged off what he said. She was anxious to get this over with. She used her ears to track the person coming off the elevator. She was surprised the footsteps were so light. Also, the breathing and heart rate were so rapid. Frances thought the Black Ghost agent was nervous.

After the sound of the next room's door opening and closing, Frances said, "Let's cover it."

Ivan nodded and opened the door. They both crept into the hallway with drawn ray guns and wary eyes. Frances flinched a little at subtle, creaking noise above their heads. She ignored it and focused on Kitagawa's hotel room. Nothing. Total silence in the other room. It unnerved her because she could always hear something in the background.

_:Something's not right,:_ Ivan confirmed. She closed her eyes and concentrated on Albert and Jet's distinctive sounds. Nothing in front of her. She gasped when she heard their distinctive heartbeats above her head on the floor above them.

The door suddenly swung open and Frances's was face-to-face with the most elegant woman she had ever seen in her life. She wore a sleek, gold dress with her hands resting on her shapely hips. A massive, chocolate stone was perched on her left ring finger. Beside her was a girl in her early teens. She wore a dowdy, sable-colored dress. The girl also wore a blank expression, but not the woman. Her smile reminded Frances of a cat about to pounce on prey.

"Welcome, 001, 003. Please come in. I wouldn't be negligent in my manners as a good Japanese woman to allow you to stand in the hallway." The woman gave a slight bow and stood to one side. Frances noticed Ivan's eyes were locked on the girl. There was something about her that troubled Ivan a great deal.

"What have you done to 002 and 004?" Ivan snapped, not bothering to look at Kitagawa.

"Why not ask your mother?" Kitagawa answered just as the elevator dinged and slid open, revealing the frumpy, Russian woman Frances despised. The woman stepped out into the hallway and walked up to Ivan.

"Mother!" was one of the few words Frances could identify before Ivan slid into a hostile Russian rant.

The woman threw back her head and gave a throaty laugh. She pointed at the girl and snapped off something in gloating Russian. Ivan gasped, his eyes jerked back to the girl. It was one of the few times Frances saw fear in Ivan's mismatched eyes.

"What's going on!" Frances demanded.

Kitagawa answered in French, "They are having a mother-son talk about how he's now to come back with her and become a proper son. Or else, Mrs. Gamo's new student will make all of your lives very painful. At least, that's the general translation. I never cared for subtitles. Learning a new language gives more insight to different cultures, right, my dear? With that knowledge a person can create a fuller, richer deception."

"Where are 002 and 004?" Frances demanded of Kitagawa again.

"Upstairs, Waiting to be taken up to the roof so they can be properly transported back to the Black Ghost."

"That creature is no mother!" Frances screamed, waving her hand at Mrs. Gamo. "But you are a mother. Surely, you have some pity on Ivan. Think of your own son!"

Kitagawa slapped Frances soundly, her eyes flashed with ire. "You should have never tried to use my son to manipulate me. Erika, they are all yours. I'll be flying back tonight."

"Good travels, my friend. Thank you for helping me get my son back."

Kitagawa gave Frances an icy look and said, "It was my pleasure."

"Why?" Frances asked, barely containing her panic.

"It's nothing personal, even though you helped destroy my husband. I did it for leverage with the Black Ghost."

With that, Kitagawa turned on her heels and sauntered to the elevator. She put on a pair of over-sized sunglasses as the doors slid shut and the down arrow lit up.

"Ann," Mrs. Gamo snapped. The girl lunged at Frances with lightning speed, her eyes glowed a bright amber. In spite of Frances's arms jerking back and her leap away from the girl, the hand quickly slapped Frances's lower ribcage; Frances sunk to the floor feeling as if she'd had the ceiling fall on her. All she could do was let her eyelids slide shut and fall into unconsciousness.

To be continued.


	20. Chapter 20

[Hey all! I'm back. I had so much work bog me down. I'm glad to be back and writing. I hope you enjoy this installment. I have plans to catch up the coming Saturday. Thanks for all you wonderful people who have written and reviewed me. I really appreciate your loyalty. Next chapter escape!]

Chapter 20:

Ivan felt an acute sense of panic as he faced the young girl, but he reached out with his mind to keep track his mother. The girl stared at him blankly; her eyes were glowing a duller color of amber. He knew if he psychically attacked the girl, it'd leave him open for his mother to attack. Plus, Frances lay at his feet, and he could only detect weak brain activity from Albert and Jet.

He just couldn't focus on the male cyborgs enough to grab them for teleportation. He couldn't bring himself, no matter how strongly he felt about Frances, to just grab her and run. Ivan didn't waste time with useless questions. His mind cast about franticly for some leverage, but he just didn't know the girl in front of him. Somehow, he knew her, though; he just couldn't place her.

_:Are you ready to come home, my son?:_

_ :No, you won't take me back to them!:_

_ :You're father is expecting you.:_

_ :I will not go see that butcher!:_

He was careful to not take his eyes from the girl's for fear of a strike. His mother slowly moved towards his field of vision, her eyes glowed a dull amethyst. She was starting to gather her power for an attack if Ivan resisted.

_:Don't make me hurt you,:_ she project into his mind. Her eyes narrowed and glowed brighter. Ivan steeled himself, but the strike came from the girl. She reached into his mind and ramped his emotions to their maximum.

He struggled for breath as he gripped his emotions back from her control, just barely. That's when his mother froze his body telekinetically. He was still feeling the girl within his mind, looking for a crack in his mental walls. His only chance was to go on the offense.

He reached into her mind and yanked her conscious out towards him. Her panic caused him to struggle horribly as he dragged her conscious into his mind. The girl was more powerful than he'd anticipated. She knocked him back into unconsciousness, but he was able to keep dragging her further into the deepest recesses of his mind.

* * *

"Good work, my love. We'll move now, and I'll expect you back within a few hours," Fyodor said before hanging up the black rotary dial phone. He felt his lips tug upwards into a wicked smile.

He dialed the internal security line and waited for the Duty Officer to answer, "Yes, sir?"

"This is, Gamo. Meet me downstairs in the aeronautics lab with three men. Be ready to issue an arrest."

"Who's name?"

"Doctor Issac Gilmore."

"On who's orders?"

Fyodor snapped, "Lord Scar's! Now move!" He slammed the phone and left his personal lab to meet them. Fyodor wouldn't miss this for the world.

* * *

Gilmore was sketching out a design on graph paper. It wasn't going as planned, and his frustration was mounting. He glanced up the cavernous, aeronautics laboratory that resembled a huge hanger bay with crafts in all stages of repair or build. Mechanics in green jumpsuits and scientists in white lab coats were everywhere, scrambling around giant robotic forms, flying saucers, and sleek rockets.

Gilmore snorted; no wonder he couldn't concentrate with all the noise. Not only that, he was getting pressure to finish recreating his portion of the acceleration device. To start with, it wasn't very simple. He also knew that old Doc Carrol's death had delayed the project only by weeks. Whoever the Black Ghost had hired in his stead was a fast worker, but to Gilmore, the person's identity was still a mystery.

Gilmore felt someone close by his back so he whirled around and looked slightly downwards at Fyodor Gamo. He didn't care for the gleaming in his eyes or the self-satisfied sneer. He really didn't care to see the four security guards behind him.

"Good news, Issac. My wife just capture the Double Zero Cyborgs and are bring them back here."

Gilmore felt the blood drain from his face; he struggled to maintain even breathing. "Good, now we can't start getting money rolling in from the Merchants of Death," Gilmore said numbly.

Fyodor put his hands behind his back and slowly paced, that horrible smile still in place. "Aren't you curious how Erika was able to track them?"

"She's a psychic, little mystery there."

"Aw, but it was deductive reasoning we used. Give it up, Issac! We know you allowed yourself to be 001's tool. Surrender now."

Gilmore scowled. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, Erika will be home soon enough and we'll find out exactly how complicit you were with these cyborgs." Fyodor pointed a finger at Gilmore and said to the guards, "Take him away."

The captain stepped forwards, looking ready of a fight, but Gilmore held up his hands and gave over the red pencil he had been sketching with. They quickly cuffed him and escorted him down the hallways. He tried concentrating to see if Ivan lurked somewhere in his mind, but there was total silence.

* * *

Ivan cast his eyes around the mossy, desolate, boggy forest setting his mind conjured. Half-light illuminated his creation; it was complete with the lichen and peat smells of an arctic swamp. He was unnerved that the girl wasn't standing in front of him. She had some how slipped away from his control and was roaming his mind-scape.

A flash of amber caught his eyes. He walked on the soft ground towards a clump of trees. He made the trees vanish in a wisp of fog. Ivan was shocked to see a five-year-old girl with raven pigtails and fear in her eyes. She gasped, turned, and ran towards more trees.

"Wait!" he shouted and ran after her. He slowed when he saw the girl peek out from behind the tree; he could tell she was trembling. "Are you the girl I just fought?"

The girl nodded, her face appeared tear-stained. He crouched down and looked at her face. It was the same girl, only much younger. "What's your name?"

"Ann Ember," she whispered.

He nodded, remembering the girl's father. He held out his hand towards her. "Do you know where you are?"

The girl shook her head and buried her face against the mossy tree. He moved closer to her, very slowly. He was about to touch her shoulder with his finger tips when a golden light lashed out and popped his hand with extreme heat. He flinched back and scowled down at the little girl.

"Stop it! You're in my mind!" Ivan snapped. The girl turned and ran deep into an even darker, overgrown place. Ivan gasped realizing she was diving deeper into his own subconscious. He chased after her with gritted teeth.

The forest's tree gradually gave way into a less organic tangle. The roots faded into thick wires, the brackish water turned thick and oily, and the leaves above were now silver and coppery spikes. He saw a slight flash, and then he heard the girl scream.

He ran through the plastic and metal forest to find the girl being dragged into a blackish pool; a huge wire was wrapped around her throat. He tried using his telekinesis to stop it, but nothing happened. He shook off his shock and ran to the edge. He grasped her small wrist and tugged, to no avail. It was his own unconsciousness; he had no way of stopping his psyche's self-defenses. He was now being pulled with her, but he refused to let her be destroyed.

"No... stop... she's not going to hurt me," Ivan shouted to the peacock colored sky. A small amber light appeared above the girl's head. Ivan watched with wide eyes as it grew and took the shape of a ghostly woman with long, flowing hair and overly large eyes.

He looked down to see the wire recede. Ivan yanked the girl to the safety of a metallic floor riddled with bolts. He hovered over her, trying to revive her as the glowing woman drifted down beside them.

He glanced up; this was someone he certainly knew, but recognition was far away because her long hair hid her oval face. He slid away and let the woman's long, tapered fingers trace over the girl's face.

"She'll be okay, Ivan." Her deep, rich voice startled him. He knew that voice; it used to sing lullabies to him. He reached over and slowly drew back some off the golden hair. Dark, brown eyes looked back at him.

He knew those eyes, but he wasn't used to seeing them without the taint of madness. She smiled warmly at him and stretched out her arms.

_:It's me, my little Ivan. Don't you remember me?:_

_:Tyotia Katerina,:_ Ivan's mind responded before he launched himself into her thin arms.

* * *

Albert woke up, his eyes blurry. He tried to sit up from the hard metal surgical table and gave up with a groan; his head throbbed horribly. He had such trouble; he looked down and realized his right arm was gone as well as his legs from the knees down.

"Don't struggle too much. You're in the middle of an upgrade."

Albert's teeth clenched together as his head jerked around to see a bearded man with glasses. "Who are you?" Albert demanded.

"You don't remember me? I'm Doctor Gaia. Then again, you may have been on too many narcotics the first time you were under my knife," the man in a white lab coat said, preparing a syringe. "Don't worry, what we have planned for you will hurt a lot, but this should put you in bliss."

"Don't touch me," Albert warned, his throat was so dry.

"Guards," Gaia called out. Instantly, Albert was swarmed by five, black uniformed guards. They forced his left arm over to Gaia, who then gave Albert the injection. Seconds later, Albert felt too heavy and too apathetic to move. Darkness set in as he caught the glare off a surgeon's knife.

* * *

Frances started awake and stood slowly. Her heart thudded painfully when she realized she was in a plain cell with bars across the front of the room. She stumbled towards the bars and steadied herself. The hallway was dim and the cell across from her was an empty room with a surgical table and equipment. She stayed on her feet in spite of her deepest fear being realized.

"Ivan!" she called out.

"Frannie?"

"Jet!" She walked over to the left side of her cell, seeing his hand in front of the bars. She grabbed his hand to squeeze it.

"I'm locked up. You too?"

"In the next cell. I'm alone. Is Albert with you? Or Ivan?" She asked.

"Naw, they took Albert." Jet's hand clenched hers hard. "I don't even know what they did to Ivan. I guess we're back."

"Yes," she whispered. "I'm so... wait! Jet, someone is coming. Don't let go."

"No chance."

A man appeared in front of Frances's cell and looked down at her hands that were gripping Jet's. "It's time to recalibrate 002 and get the mapping for the acceleration device." Frances shivered at the man's seemingly kind tone.

"No! I'm not going with you, you stupid fuck! I'll slice your head off if you come near me!" Jet shouted; she hung onto him tighter.

"You don't have a choice. Now, let go of 003 and stand up."

"No!" he shouted.

"Guards ! Come and get 002."

Frances watched a group of five men in green uniforms with black batons go to the cell beside hers. Moments later Jet's hands were wrenched from hers and she heard the sounds of fighting beside her. She bit her lower lip as the fighting died down into the eerie sound of a battering.

"Come now, don't smash him up! He cost a small fortune," the doctor called out. Two of the guards dragged Jet between him. Jet, to his credit, was still conscious and struggling in spite of his battered appearance. Frances reached and and grabbed his dangling hand. He responded and grabbed hers back with both of his.

"No! Let him go!" Frances felt his finger tips slip away as the guards tugged him to the surgical room across from her cell. She swiped at the tears on her cheeks and glared at the doctor. "You're a monster!"

"For trying to help perfect humanity? My dear, you should be thanking us. You have virtual immortality. Why would you reject such a thing?"

"It wasn't my choice. You forced it on me."

The man, to his credit, actually looked thoughtful. A smile appeared and he nodded. "Even so, it's too late now. Accept the gift you've been given."

"Doctor Yana," one of the guards called out after they wrestled Jet onto the surgical table and strapped him down.

Jet started cussing a blue-streak, which Frances knew was to bolster his own courage rather than scare the guards off.

"A friendly warning, if you don't start showing gratitude soon, your extremely long life will be lived in agony," the doctor said before he swirled around and went towards Jet.

The man brought a black mask over Jet nose and mouth. Soon the redhead fell into a deep sleep. Frances sunk to her knees, unable to take her eyes off of Jet. All she had to cling to was the memory of Albert once telling her not to despair; it was the anchor she used.

* * *

"Oh Ivan, I've missed you so much."

"But I don't understand what you're doing inside my subconscious."

"Your father took what was left of my brain and integrated it into this girl. In actuality, I'm in her head."

Ivan felt as if he'd had a blow to his stomach. He shook his head and asked, "So... you're..."

"Dead? My body won't last much longer. Neither will my mind. Soon, her mind will eclipse mine, and I'll cease to exist."

"Mother allowed this?"

"Reluctantly. She saw this as a way to give me new life. It was hard on her."

"She did it out of jealousy!" Ivan accused, the landscape rumbled slightly.

"Things are more complicated than that. Don't you see that Erika and Fyodor believe this is the best for you? They believe they are being good parents to you and a good caretaker to me. Only... they're ideologues. Their belief in creating a superior, next generation man comes into every facet of their thinking. Do you understand? It's not evil that drives them, but what they believe is in the best interest of mankind."

Ivan reluctantly nodded. He had always known that to be so. "It's doesn't mean their results aren't evil. It's an abomination to kidnap people and mutilate them. That I know must be stopped."

"You're right, Ivan. That's why I'll help you escape, but, one day, please look a little kinder on your parents."

Ivan shook his head after several long seconds. "I will never do that. To ask that of me is so cruel. But please, help me get my friends out now. They're in horrible danger."

"Not now. You must wait three months."

"Why?"

"Because I had a vision," she answered, her sly smile causing Ivan to shiver.

"That final ability... mother told me that's what drove you mad... precognition... she asked father to make sure I never developed it. She feared I'd become like you... uncontrollable..." he murmured.

"It's true. With precognition comes an excruciating mental torment. I can't describe the agony of seeing the future and not acting on it. Madness and precognition go hand-in-hand, and the burden was too great for me. But for you, when it starts happening, you'll have the mindset in place to handle it."

"I'll develop it? I have to stop it! I can't even handle my empathy. How could I ever hope..."

"Hush, my Ivan," she ordered softly, "You can no more stop it than you can stop the moon moving through space. It won't happen for a very long time."

"Now what? What about my friends? Do you know what's happening to them now?"

_:Yes, they are being upgraded. That's why you must wait three months. They are all in pieces. When you leave, the three of you will be powerful enough to fend off the Black Ghost for forty years. Then... something will occur...:_

_ :Tyotia Katerina, what will happen to us?:_

_ :I cannot tell you because you must not have that knowledge now. Now do you see the torment of it all?:_

_ :I see. It's necessary to stay here.: _Ivan took a deep sigh and nodded. He couldn't help but feel he was betraying them by not trying to escape sooner._ :Fine. In the meanwhile, I need you to help me avoid...:_

_ :...becoming what I've become?: _Ivan felt a flush to his cheeks as a the stagnant air stirred slightly. She gave a warm smile and embraced him again. _:I will do what I can, my nephew. It's my destiny to help you put away your childish ways and the temptation of succumbing to the voices.:_

* * *

Frances's heart started to thud as she backed against the the wall. The scientist with curly, light hair strolled in with a bright smile. She couldn't keep her trembling under control, nor her anger.

"003, it's been so long. You're as lovely as ever."

"Who are you?" she asked, afraid to take her eyes off the strange scientist in favor of Jet, who was still being operated on.

"I'm Doctor Uranus. I was your original doctor when you first came to us."

"You horrible monster!" Her rage and fear where overwhelming.

The man looked troubled as he walked forward. "Please, it's not like that, my dear. You... you're so beautiful... don't you understand? I was one of your followers. So very fair... I just had to preserve you."

"I don't understand!"

"I was the one who selected you. No one knows this, but I bribed the agents that were combing Paris. They were under orders to take someone without firm family ties... someone... male. But I saw you..."

"What are you talking about? Saw me?"

"Yes! You were the lead in a performance two months before you were taken. I watched that night, and I'll never forget how wondrous you were. You touched me so deeply. That's why I needed to preserve you. Make you a cyborg. I choose you. The others can't brag like you... that they were chosen. They were random men. You're... so special. Now you're like a ballerina in a snow globe. Caught forever in perfection."

It truly struck her how mad all of these men in the Black Ghost were. He walked over slowly and reached a hand towards the golden hair resting on her shoulder. She screamed, causing Doctor Uranus to flinch back.

A disturbance across the hallway caught their attention. Frances was utterly shocked to see Jet's arm fling in the air, breaking the restraint. He was trying to drag himself away from all the medical paraphernalia against the four doctors trying to push him back.

"No! Jet! Don't! They'll hurt you!" Frances lunged for the open cell door towards Jet.

"Don't you dare go to him!" Doctor Uranus shouted from behind her.

Suddenly, it felt as if a jolt of lightning hit her back, and she hit the floor. Soon, she was in a deep sleep.

* * *

When Albert woke back up, he felt heavy and numb. He turned his head and looked around. It was the same dormitory he, Jet, and Frances had stayed in right before they escaped the first time. Only, he was alone now and without his legs and right arm.

He could tell it was night from the barred window across the room. He tried to push himself upright, but couldn't manage. He'd never felt so helpless in his life. Even when he was a teenager and learned of his father's death, he had not felt this vulnerable. Part of his flesh was gone, the most basic thing a human possessed.

The door opened, giving a harsh light from the hallway. He shivered, seeing Jet supported between two guards. There was something horribly wrong with Jet. His shoulders were slumped, and he kept his face towards the floor. Albert could almost feel the shame rolling off of the New Yorker.

"What happened?" Albert asked softly. There was no response.

The guards shoved Jet into the dark room. Jet stumbled towards his original bed, knelt beside it and buried his head among the covers. Albert controlled himself and asked in a deferential tone to the guards, "Please tell me what happened."

One of the guards answered in an almost contrite voice, "They took the blueprints of the acceleration deceive, and then they wired his jaw shut. He caused way too much trouble and... it keeps his acceleration device sealed."

Albert was shocked at the news, but not surprised. He murmured a 'thank you' before the guards left. "Jet, come here. Please."

All Albert could see was a shaking shadow hunched at the bed's side. "Don't be so stubborn," he said softly. Jet slowly stood and walked over towards Albert's bed. He could now see Jet's bruised and swollen lips. Jet sank to his knees beside Albert's bed; he had never once seen Jet look so subjugated. Albert felt sick to his stomach at the haunted look in those brandy-colored eyes.

"I have no hope I can offer you," Albert explained as he squeezed Jet's shoulder with his left hand.

Jet's hand grabbed Albert's. The grip was firm. Then Jet's head sank to the edge of Albert's bed and slowly shook back and forth.

"I know. I feel the same. At least they let us stay together. That's something."

Jet nodded. That's when Albert began thinking back to another redhead in his life. His fingers combed through Jet's tangled spikes and came to rest on the back of the younger man's neck. Jet gave him a baffled expression.

"Stay close to me... and I know it won't do any good... but please... I beg you... don't antagonize them any more. I'm afraid of what they might do to you next," Albert pleaded in German, his head too fuzzy to speak any other language coherently.

He was amazed to see Jet nod. Jet's head sank; his forehead came to rest on the back of Albert's hand. Albert pulled his hand away and laid it on Jet's shoulder; he gingerly kneaded, there were no words he could offer, just kindness.

To be continued.


	21. Chapter 21

[Hey, everyone. Thanks for keeping up with me. This chapter has Gilmore come back... I know several people missed him. I hope you like this chapter.]

Chapter 21:

Albert felt Jet stir under his hand. He raised his head to see Jet had stayed by the side of his bed, but on the floor. Jet was now looking, more like glaring, at the door to the dormitory. Albert looked over to see a scientist with curly, short hair carrying Frances in his arms. She was totally limp and wrapped in voluminous, thick, blue sheets they used on their surgical tables.

Albert couldn't make out many details, but he could see her eyes were wrapped in gauze. He could also tell, in the dim light from the hallway, that there were some dark bumps on her bare arms and shoulders. Albert clenched his hand tight on Jet's shoulder and shook his head. He felt Jet relax slightly, as the man laid Frances in her bed and brushed back her dingy hair from her face.

The scientist turned to them and walked over to the foot of Albert's bed. He cleared his throat and said, "Don't think about planning another escape. You are being watched very carefully now."

"Who are you?"

"Doctor Gregory Uranus, at your service."

"Well, Herr Doctor, what happened to Frances?"

"003 is such a lovely young woman. I was very excited to be able to finish my designs on her. I've started the process of enhancing her skin. The sensors I've implanted will start taking effect in a few days. They'll bury themselves, and she'll have a normal appearance once again. Unfortunately, it may cause her some pain while this process occurs, but I have her on morphine right now."

"Morphine?" Albert spat out, angered because he knew how addictive it was.

"Same as you." A wave of revulsion hit Albert as he realized why he felt so slow and drained.

The doctor shook his head and continued, "We realized we made some mistakes last time. For example, we need to make you more comfortable. As long as you cooperate, we'll make you comfortable." Doctor Uranus then looked down at Jet and said, "When you've learned your lesson, we'll alleviate your pain too."

Albert turned to look at Jet. His eyes were, indeed, watery and bloodshot. He hadn't noticed it before, but Jet's face was so incredibly pale and tense. Jet shook his head and a new determination came to the surface. Albert knew Jet would rather suffer than admit defeat and submit to addictive drugs.

"The least you could do is unwire his jaw," Albert said. "It has to be hurting him a lot."

"Yes, but he's annoyed everyone here with his mouth, not to mention biting Doctor Yana's hand so hard it gave him nerve damage. The man may never operate again. No, he needs a vivid object lesson. Anyway, like I said, we're correcting the mistakes we made with you."

"Like?" Albert asked.

"You'll find out soon enough. I'll be back tomorrow morning to check on 003." Doctor Uranus turned and left. After the door was shut, only the light of the moon illuminate the dormitory.

Albert nudged Jet and asked, "Can you check on Frances?"

Jet nodded and stumbled over towards Frances. Albert watched Jet tuck France under several covers and look over her arm. After he was finished, Jet walked around the room and found something over at a table by the door where a nurse or guard used to sit. He came over and sat beside Albert.

"Paper and pen? Good. What did you see?"

Jet had the pen in a clenched fist, he was so shaky, but he managed to scrawl a few words and handed it to Albert. Albert tried to concentrate, knowing Jet could only write in English. What made it difficult was Jet's atrocious handwriting on top of the jagged letters.

"She has things on her skin, and she's running a fever? Okay. You need to try to get some rest."

Jet slid down off Albert's bed. Albert rolled over slightly to see Jet curl up on the cold tile floor. Albert set aside the paper and pen, let his left hand drop off the side of his bed, and rested it on Jet's head. Albert's final conscious thought was how coarse Jet's hair was compared to Hilda's, in spite of the same coloring.

* * *

Jet's sleep was fitful. The fire from his gums and the noxious, dry taste kept him from drifting off. He didn't want to leave Albert's side for one moment. The German's hand on his head was the only thing keeping him sane at the moment, keeping him from running wild and and trying to tear apart everything in his sight.

He wanted to scream so badly it hurt his stomach. Yes, the Black Ghost was determined to break him, but Jet had already been through so much growing up. He knew he could survive this, too. He just had to dig deeper than he ever had. He wanted to talk to Albert, tell him his fears, because Albert was the first person he felt he could let down his guard with and get some of his burdens off his mind. But Jet knew Albert understood, just from his touch.

He curled his fingers around Albert's, a little afraid of how the gesture would be taken, but Albert was in a deep sleep, just like Frances. He was really afraid the Black Ghost would hook Frances and Albert on so much dope there would be no redemption. After all, he'd seen what heroin could do to people.

Also, there was no sign of Ivan or his lunatic parents. Jet was worried they were trying to twist Ivan right at that moment, and Jet wasn't so sure Ivan was stable enough to resist them. All Jet could do was hope Ivan could manage on his own and try to make Frances and Albert as comfortable as possible.

His fingers tightened around Albert's as he tried to push away the sensation of uselessness. It was the same thing he had felt when he was a small child and his parents were drunk and at their most volatile.

* * *

_:It's time to wake up, Ivan. Remember, be pliant to their request for now, but don't let them suspect we talked.:_Katerina stood and faded away in a golden haze. He looked down to the small girl. Ivan held his hand over the girl's forehead and gently pushed her from his mind; she faded out in a blueish fog.

He stood and looked around his desolate mind-scape. The dim bog had an eerie loneliness, but he knew each person was truly alone within the mind. How he wished it wasn't so. He closed his inner eyes and left, his feet tingling. Gradually, he sank downwards through cold and darkness.

The first thing he was conscious of was the serial, antiseptic smell of his father's lab. He opened his eyes to see his parents at the foot of the operating table. They were each wearing anxious expressions.

"001! Oh thank goodness; I was beginning to worry," Erika said, coming around and grabbing his right hand. He turned his head to the left to see the girl, who looked twelve years old, was still asleep. Ivan knew she wouldn't come around for a few more minutes.

"Son, what happened? Why were you unconscious so long?" Fyodor asked.

He looked towards his father and shook his head. "I don't remember. The girl knocked me out. She's too powerful."

"Nonsense," Fyodor responded. "You were just being sloppy."

"Don't be hard on the boy, Fyodor," Erika said, helping Ivan sit upright. "Come with me, and I'll get you something to eat."

"Thank you... mother," Ivan said, barely able to force the words out.

* * *

"Please, I'll do as you ask, if you let me see them," Ivan requested in his native language, trying to look his most contrite. His parents sat across the dinning-room table from him, and Ann was now seated to his left. The girl hadn't said a word through his mother's Krasnye Bliny pancakes with sour cream and salmon, but that was the plan.

"No, 001. It was a mistake letting you around those others," his father responded in firm Russian. Ivan admitted there was something comforting about the traditional food and the lilt of the Eastern Slavic language. His parents were being more indulgent with him than they ever had before. His empathy was inflamed with fear and nervousness.

"I won't do anything. I just want to make sure they're well."

"You've broken our trust. You must work at rebuilding it," Fyodor insisted.

"I understand," Ivan said numbly. He started picking at his left over food again. He looked up with a hint of defiance. "I'll make a deal with you. I'll consent to the test you want me to perform tomorrow, if you let me just see them. I'll even let you listen in telepathically."

His parents exchanged troubled, thoughtful expressions. Erika's eyes glowed amethysts, and finally they looked at him and nodded. "You must promise to not to encourage them towards any more rebellion," Fyodor relented.

"I promise." But of course, making a hollow promise to his parents meant nothing to Ivan. It wouldn't have any sway on his plans.

He was careful to project a false sincerity, lest his mother figure out the foundation for the house of lies he was about to build over the next three months. It was hard to keep his empathy under control, but Katerina'd said this was his chance to develop more restraint.

* * *

Albert shook Jet awake when the door opened. He thought it'd be Black Ghost doctors, but was relieved to see Ivan. He grew apprehensive when he saw the stout Russian woman trailing behind. Her eyes were glowing a deep purple.

"I came to see how you were doing," Ivan announced in German and walked over to the edge of Albert's bed. "Not too well, I see."

Jet stood up slowly with a harsh expression directed at Ivan; Albert turned to see a momentary shock pass Ivan's face, then a hardened mask. Ivan's right eye turned a bright blue and then he looked down at Albert.

_:Jet says not to worry so much about him. He's strong enough to handle whatever they do to him,:_ Ivan projected.

_:I know. He's being very brave. How are you holding up?:_ Albert formed the thought clearly.

_:Well enough. My... father... wants me to preform some tests today. They want to see how much change has occurred with my abilities.:_

_ :Be careful. I don't trust them,: _Albert thought.

"How dare you imply we would do harm to our own son," Erika snapped in German. Albert didn't make matters worst by replying, but Jet certainly looked like he wanted to say something tart.

"Please, Erika... mother... I'll say goodbye to Frances, and then we'll leave."

Albert watched Ivan go over to Frances's bedside. He didn't do anything except look at her. No words or even a touch. He turned on his heels and had a hardened expression that ill fitted his youthful appearance.

Before he left, he cast a look at Albert and projected, _:Just cooperate.:_

Albert stifled his startled expression, but nodded. After Ivan left, Jet grabbed up a piece of paper and pen. He scrawled the English words, 'Can we trust him?'

"We have no choice," Albert responded back in Jet's native language. He picked up the paper and wrote the same words in German under Jet's. "You really need to work on your handwriting. It's horrible."

'You bastard,' Jet scribbled. To which, Albert wrote the German equivalent underneath.

"Auf Duetsch," Albert insisted. Jet looked aggravated, but then started to awkwardly piecemeal misspelled German words into half-coherent sentences with little attention to grammar. It was something to kept Jet's mind off his pain, and something to keep Albert occupied.

* * *

Doctor Uranus came bustling in with two syringes. Jet didn't move from where he sat beside Albert. He watched the man go over and check on Frances with what appeared to be tenderness. It took every ounce of Jet's will power, and Albert to lay a reminding hand on his wrist, to not go punch the man. Especially, when the man gave Frances the addictive painkillers.

The doctor came over and lofted the last syringe. He looked over at Jet and said, "You know, Doctor Yana is still very angry with you. If you apologize, he may let you have some."

Jet felt his face grow red. He picked up the paper and scrawled, 'Tell that son-of-a-bitch to go fu..."

Albert snatched the pen away and looked at Uranus. "Jet won't relent. He's a very stubborn boy."

Doctor Uranus shrugged. "Suit yourself. 004, give me your arm." Jet knew Albert well enough to see the battle going on in his minds.

"First tell me where Gilmore is."

"Prison. I'll arrange to let him see you tomorrow, if you'd like."

Albert nodded before he cooperated and thrust out his left arm. The man efficiently gave the shot and turned to leave. Albert then drifted to sleep after settling on his pillow.

Jet looked down at Albert's tranquil face. He'd never felt so alone in his entire life. It took him totally by surprise to realize how much he had grown to depend on them, especially, Albert, and that terrified him even more than the Black Ghost.

* * *

Ivan doubled over and sank to his knees, sweat poured off his artificial skin from the internal cooling system. He looked up after steadying his shaking hands. The girl stood before him, her eyes still glowing amber. He had restrained himself from the things he could do to defend himself on purpose. Plus, he kept his pyrokinesis a secret from his parents.

"Very good, 001, but in some ways, you've fallen back. You need to be retrained," his mother called out from across the gymnasium. He got to his feet and adopted a look of shame.

"I haven't used my abilities very much since we left. I didn't want to," Ivan lied, careful to subtly shield his mind.

"But, my darling, we're meant to use our minds. You need to forget whatever those three told you and take your place as someone who's far superior above the dredges," she explained. She waved her thick hand at the slight girl across the way. "Ann does as I tell her and look at how far along she is."

"I don't want to be like Ann. She's... unnatural."

"What is natural? Natural is something that needs to be corrected into perfection," his father explained walking over from the bleachers. "By the way, I want to examine my handiwork. You seemed to be holding out for longer periods of time than I originally designed."

Ivan felt a slight bit of panic. His father would see Kaminari's upgrades and want to know what had happened. His father was so egotistical about his work. Albert had told him once to lay cards on the table and then tell the person what it meant; he now understood the German's advice.

"Your work was altered, Doctor Gamo," Ivan announced. "I had an injury and needed to be fixed. There were definitely some improvements to your design."

Ivan felt the waves of uncontrollably rage vibrating out of his father's mind; it was threatening to overwhelm him. The man grabbed Ivan's elbow and yanked him towards the door.

"We'll see about that."

* * *

Jet bolted off the floor and quickly was by Frances's side when she screamed. He put his hand to her forehead and then gently pushed her back down on the bed. He stroked her hair until she seemed to calm down. No doubt she had to be scared, being effectively blind.

"Don't touch me..."

Jet couldn't protest and tell her it was him. He took her hand and squeezed, hoping she'd understand. He was relieved to see her breathing even out and tension leave. She took a deep inhale.

"Jet?" He took her hand and put it on the side of his face and nodded. "What happened? Why aren't you saying anything?"

His frustration maxed out. He didn't want to scare her, but he didn't know what else to do. He guided her fingers slowly to his swollen mouth.

"Something horrible happened to you, your mouth?" She jerked her hand back, and her arm flopped down weakly. "So tired. I feel so sick."

Her head drifted to the side, and she fell back into a deep sleep. He rose to his feet. He'd never been so drained in his life. Jet knew he had to get some decent rest and build up his strength again. Still, without solid food, he didn't know how well he could fare.

* * *

Jet watched the door open and saw Gilmore walk in, looking the worse for wear. He had two guards besides him. The scientist's eyes grew huge and he called out, "002! What happened?"

Jet couldn't answer, so he took a deep breath through his nose and stood from the corner he was resting in. Gilmore buzzed through the room and checked on unconscious Albert and Frances before walking up to Jet.

"Good news... they had no choice but to let me work on you. Come with me, and I'll do what I can."

Jet shook his head, walked over, and sat on the side of Albert's bed. He crossed his arms and glared.

"They'll be fine. No one has plans for them right away. Listen, you need to come with me or else..." Gilmore jerked his head towards the guards that carried batons. Each of them tapped the end of the batons in their hands; they looked itching to fight.

The only thing that won Jet over was the memory of Albert's request for him to behave well. He wished Albert hadn't made the request. He still wanted to fight and scream. He slowly stood and walked away, dragging his fingertips along the back of Albert's left hand.

* * *

"...and then I was arrested. I wish you could talk, but I'm under strict orders to leave your mouth as is," Gilmore explained.

Jet nodded. Gilmore took a swab and dipped it in a small jar. He gingerly pulled Jet's lips apart and swabbed around the screws and the inflamed gums. Jet breathed out in relief as his gums grew numb.

"Okay?"

Jet nodded.

"Now I'm going to put you under. I need to examine part of you brain and chest cavity. So you'll need to get undressed and hop on the table. Just relax."

Jet looked around the small exam room. The two guards were outside the door, playing cards. He watched Gilmore pick up a clipboard and scribble while he peeled off the blue scrubs they made him wear. He quickly slid onto the table and laid down. He didn't really trust Gilmore, but he didn't really have a choice.

Gilmore glanced to the doorway and held the clipboard up to Jet's eyes. It read: _I'm going to actually enhance you abilities: both flight and acceleration. They don't know about my plans for you, __and they don't really trust me, but they do need me. I hope, with advanced abilities, that you'll be able to break free when the time comes. It's the only way I can think to help you now. They are watching us all the time, so don't give them a reason to snoop. Okay?_

Jet nodded once; he'd do anything to get his freedom again, even go through more surgery. Jet took a deep breath and let Gilmore put the black, rubber gas-mask over his nose and mouth. He drifted off into a deep slumber.

* * *

Several days later Jet was taken to the same testing forest he and the others had escaped from; they had dressed him in a green uniform with a light blue scarf this time. This time he was alone and there were several over-sized robots with laser pistols. It was the creepy little girl with them that he worried about. She had gotten the jump on him and Albert at the hotel room, so he knew she was like Ivan.

Gilmore and some other doctors were there, including the one that had wired Jet's jaw shut. The man's hand was still wrapped, and he shot Jet ugly looks every now and again. Jet promised himself one day to pay the man back, if it was the last thing he'd do.

Gilmore had already passed a note telling him this test had to go off flawlessly so the Black Ghost would continue the upgrades. Otherwise, Frances and Albert would be taken away and put in cryogenic sleep; then he and Ivan would be sold off to the highest bidding country angling to start a war.

"Once around the island as fast as you can and then through the obstacle course," Doctor Gaia snapped and pointed to the sky. Jet nodded and hurled himself towards the sky. He flew like the other's lives depended on it. As the air rushed around him, he couldn't help but revel in the power and the new speed.

He hadn't realized how he did enjoy flying; but it seemed so obscene to admit something like that. He pushed it from his mind and concentrated on landing and jogging through the forest. Explosions went off all around him. He couldn't active his acceleration device, but he still had enough speed to make it to the finish.

He tagged the tree with an orange ribbon around it and doubled over, hands on knees as he fought to breath as much as he could. Gaia drove up in a jeep with Uranus.

"Good work, 002." Uranus said, with a bright smile. "We'll begin work on 003 tomorrow!"

Jet's eyes narrowed at Uranus. He vowed to pay that man back, too. Frances was now his sister, sealed to him by something stronger than blood and flesh.

* * *

Jet got back and wasn't surprised to see Frances and Albert still dead to the world. A nurse brought by a protein drink with a straw and helped Jet drink. He carefully finished and was grateful the nurse left soon. There was no clock, but he could tell it was dusk.

He sat on the side of Albert's bed and picked up the paper and pen resting on the man's chest. He smiled at reading: _Lieber Gianni Alessandro..._

Jet was pleased with himself as he read the meticulous, German words. The words were of encouragement and a warning to keep his temper in line. Near the end the letter said something that made Jet's heart stop. In neat print the German words said: _… and keep yourself safe for my sake, if not your own. I can't stand the idea of loss... Yours, Albert._

Jet fought to get breath again. He picked up the paper and pen; he went over to a corner across the room and tried to put his thoughts together. He really wasn't as well spoken, or written, as Albert, and it made him self-conscious. Eventually, he slowly put his words down in awkward German; he let his hopes and fears out on the paper.

Afterwards, he checked on Frances, glad to see the bumps on her skin fading away. He folded the paper in half and tucked it under under Albert's remaining hand. He sank to the ground beside Albert's bed, put his right arm under his head, and started at the shadow-play on the ceiling.

* * *

Frances woke, but still felt in a deep haze. She sat up slowly and realized, in horror, she was once again dressed in the green uniform, only this time with a light blue scarf. She smoothed down the skirt after she slid off the table. Everything seemed so bright and everything sounded so hollow. What was worse, her skin felt as if it were on fire.

"Help me!"

"Identify the liquids in front of you," a deep, far away voice called out. She stumbled forward, not knowing what else to so. There were several heady odors invading her nose. Words came to her head, announcing what each was: mercury, nitroglycerin, ammonia, arsenic, salt, bleach. Very simple stuff that she said out loud.

"Very good. Now a tactile test," the man's voice announced. She followed the instructions, praying they'd let her see the others soon.

* * *

She felt clear headed, somewhat, by the time they let her get back to the dormitory. She was elated to see Jet sitting by the window, just staring outside. Albert was unconscious. Jet stood up; and she ran into his arms. He hugged her fiercely and held her at arms length; he looked her up and down with concern. It was his mouth and the incredibly strong and stagnant scent of blood coming from him that almost knocked her back.

"It's true? They did... that to you..."

Jet nodded. He went over and got pen and paper. The paper, Frances could see, was crowded with German words, coherent and not so. Jet found a blank space and wrote, in perfect German: '_How are you?'_

"I'm fine, just very tired. They kept testing my senses. How are Albert and Ivan?"

_'They doped Albert. Ivan don't know.'_

"Things are so different now. It's like everything is brighter. I can see x-rays... and all sorts of things." She gave Jet a small smile. "I can even hear your stomach. Are you eating?"

_'Nothing real... just soup.'_

"How cruel," Frances said, clenching her fist. A wave of vertigo hit her, but Jet caught her and tucked her back into her bed. He patted her shoulder and wrote: _'Rest or they dope you too.'_

She nodded and closed her eyes except for a sliver. She watched Jet, in the darkness, settle on the floor beside Albert's bed. Frances was concerned; she could see the tile temperature was extremely cold. However, she saw Jet drift to sleep quickly. She looked over to where Jet's bed had been originally. It was unslept in.

Now she worried over Jet's sanity, wondering if the Black Ghost had found a way to break him. If so, what chance did she stand? Albert and Jet were so much stronger than her. She drew a deep breath and let worries drain from her because of her deep exhaustion.

* * *

Ivan woke up, sweat all over his skin. He sat up in his bed and looked around his bedroom. He laid back down, closed his eyes, and subtly gathered his capital power together.

_:Tyotia Katerina? My friends are suffering. It's like I feel it all within my skin. It torments me. I want to let this pain out so badly.:_

_ :I know, my little one. There is nothing I can do for you. Just one more month. See, the time has flown by. Besides, for the next three weeks you'll not be conscious of their suffering.:_

_ :What? Why?:_

_ :I can't answer that.:_

_ :Something dire...:_

_ :Something will happen to you that is necessary for you to function for the rest of your life. You will be frightened, and you will want to fight. But it must happen.:_

_ :But I have so much more I need to learn from you.: _

_ :I'll be with you the whole time, my darling.:_

Ivan nodded at his ceiling and took a deep had to trust in Katerina's judgment and her visions, but still, he remembered times when she raged and laugh hysterically, smashed countless mirrors and windows with her telekinesis. She'd go months without bathing and tear at her skin.

She'd walk over the broken glass, leaving tails of blood. Then his mother would try to restrain her. It always led to a battle between the sisters so severe it shook entire buildings' foundations. Still, he was inclined to trust his aunt over his mother. He had no real choice, unless he wanted to submit to Black Ghost, but he knew it wasn't his destiny.

* * *

Ivan stirred his Kasha so the sour cream mixed evenly with the porridge. He didn't take his eyes off his mother and father. Ann joined them, and Erika served her breakfast. The four ate in silence. His parents had nervousness rolling off of them so tangibly he felt he could taste it.

"My friend, Albert, always says to be direct. I sense tension from the both of you.  
What's going to happen today?"

"001... Ivan... please." His mother reached over and covered his hand with hers. "We realized we made a mistake with you, darling. We've make arrangements for you to see Doctor Dressler today. We contracted him several weeks ago, with Lord Scar's permission."

"What do you mean 'contracted'?"

"You've done everything we've asked, and you've rebuilt trust. We want to reward you with a new, older body," Fyodor answered, smiling.

"But..." Ivan looked over at Ann, stunned. She demurely looked down at her Kasha. "So you'll put me through more twisted experiments to fix the ones you forced on me to begin with?"

"But we though you'd be pleased," His mother said, looking confused.

He glowered at her and said, "I saw the pain you put her through when you captured us. She's really just a small child."

"Yes, and you are really a man inside of a boy's body. Don't you want to be older?"

Ivan felt a jolt as Frances's face came to his mind, but a flutter of hope was dashed by Jet's words to him. Even if he was older, she would never love him like he loved her. Besides, the pain Ann went through was imprinted on his mind through the mental contact he'd secretly had with her and his aunt over the last two months.

"I don't want an older body. I want to be as I am," Ivan decided. It would be pointless to change now.

"You'll be grateful," Fyodor decided. "Besides, some of your organs have been cloned and put in your new body. All that needs to be done is to transplant your brain and let you adjust."

"It doesn't matter to you what I want?"

"It's for your own good," Erika said. "Now finish your breakfast, and we can get started on getting your new body."

* * *

Jet had run out of paper, so he had taken to writing on the walls and sheets, anything he could find. Albert continued to teach him to write German, and he and Jet had worked out a few hand signs. Mostly, Jet found himself sitting beside Albert and listing to him talk when Frances was asleep.

He talked about Germany and the Second World War. Albert painted a picture of his father and his mother so well, Jet felt as if he had met them. Albert also talked about music, and his bitterness over not having his right arm so he could no longer play the violin and piano. He talked about the beauty and power of Liszt, Haydn, Bach, and Brahms. For the first time in his life, Jet felt curious about a world beyond his class and lot. He wanted to know more, because Albert was bringing it to life.

When Frances was awake, Jet listened to her and Albert talk about music and the ballet. Sometimes, he felt as though he didn't belong with them. They had had nothing in common with him. They were so sophisticated and from a different continent, which seemed like a different world. Sometimes, he was terrified they'd see him for what he was, street trash, and reject him; he started to feel his jaw being wired shut was a mixed blessing. It didn't ache so much, anymore, as the days wore on.

Things between the three of them calmed, doctors coming in occasionally. What worried Jet was the continued morphine Albert and Frances were on. Every now and then they saw doctor Gilmore, and Jet started to feel sorry for the man, too. They still made him work, even though what they made him do was against his morals.

One day, though, the Black Ghost did something that stab Jet's heart. They came and took Albert away. He couldn't remember it clearly, because of the beating he got for getting in their way. When he woke, Frances was weeping beside him, and Albert was gone. He sat up from the cold tile and clung to Frances as tight as he could. She sobbed all the more, and for the first time he could ever remember, tears started rolling down his cheeks.

To be continued.


	22. Chapter 22

[Well, I'm back. I received some really positive feedback about Katerina. Thanks lots. I decided to not break them out of the Black Ghost center until next chapter so please stick with me. This is more of a personal drama chapter and such. I'll get back to the Kitagawas and such, and I do promise to get around to the second generation cyborgs. I hope this story doesn't ramble too much, but I am enjoying it a great deal. Thanks to everyone who's supporting me!

By the way, my husband pestered me to watch 'Legend of the Super Galaxy' last night, and he had a list of disgruntlements. I warned him! He posted his list to his blog, but I thought I would put his list at the bottom of this chapter. Enjoy, and feel free to add to the list.]

Chapter 22:

Albert felt something cold brush against his side. He cracked his eyes to see Doctor Uranus examine Hilda's wedding band on his gold chain. He couldn't do anything to stop the man, but he was grateful when Gilmore snatched it from the Greek scientist and tucked it in his own pocket.

"Let this man have some dignity."

"I was just getting him ready for surgery. So... they're letting you help out?"

"They have no choice for the upgrades to 004. I worked on his secondary system. Without me, there isn't much you can do to integrate the primary with it."

"So in other words, you won't hand over the codes to totally kill his self destruct mechanism."

"Yep."

"So when we go to start rebuilding him..."

"Boom!"

"Don't be such a child, Gilmore!" Gaia raged across the surgical table, over Albert. "Hand it over, you sanctimonious bastard, or I'll call Gamo!"

"Gamo is too busy with 001's upgrades to come down here to sooth your ego!"

"Would you both shut up!" Uranus finally interjected. "Let's work together and get this done."

Gilmore and Gaia nodded, both still glaring at each other. Uranus went over to a table with a clipboard, Gaia joined him after growling, "I'll be watching you, Issac."

Albert's left hand felt incredible heavy, but he was able to move it and grab Gilmore's wrist. "End it," he whispered.

Gilmore glowered at him and leaned over to say, "I can't, and I won't. You have too much to live for. Think about the others and don't be so selfish. I've been watching the three of you together. Those two will fall apart without you. Pull it together."

"I won't live."

"You must," Gilmore insisted.

"I'll self-detonate right now."

"That was suspended when you came in. You didn't realized because you've been under so much medication. For your sake, settle down..." Gilmore pleaded. Albert nodded weakly. He closed his eyes and fell into a cold, black sleep.

* * *

Frances was apprehensive; not only was Albert gone, but Jet was absolutely inconsolable. Something had shaken him up when they had come for Albert. He lay face down on Albert's bed with his head buried under a pillow. She rubbed his quivering shoulder every now and again and tried to coax him upright. Nothing came of her pleading or demands.

After nearly two hours, she stood and started pacing around the room. She felt as though everything was unraveling at the seams. Her life, her friends, and even her freedom, all of them were slowly evaporating.

She ended up sitting by the barred windows and watching the horrendous rainstorm outside. She took a deep breath when a craggy-faced nurse came in with a syringe. Frances checked on Jet, who seemed to be in a troubled doze. She slid into her own bed and let the nurse give her the powerful narcotic.

There would be no way she could survive on her own; she just had to wait for the right time, when they were all together again, to rebel. She had learned from her ballet training to have a goal and keep to it with determination. Now, her immediate goal in life was to escape with her friends.

* * *

_:Katerina?:_

_ :Yes, darling! Reach out. Keep walking. You're almost to me... what's left of my consciousness.: _

He stumbled through the dense foggy, making him feel a sensation as if he were clammy. It was impossible, because he was currently disembodied, traveling past Ann's slumbering consciousness. His feet felt as if they sank into something cold and soft. He kept moving towards the dim, yellowish hazy.

He stretched out his hand and ran towards her presence of churning emotions. _:Tyotia!:_

His fingertips were caught, and then the the rest of him was swept up into a firm embrace with thin arms. He wrapped his arms around her emaciated projection of herself. She finally pushed him back slightly and looked him in the eyes.

Her large, soft, brown eyes gazed down at him. He was joyful to see she was still lucid. He could also sense the happiness from her. What made him pause was her skin seemed paler than he remembered, she also seemed much thinner, and almost older.

"We're almost home, at least for the next couple of weeks," she said, taking his hand. He was surprised he could feel how icy her hand was. As they walked along the darkened mind-scape, he could see the seams where Ann's mind ended and his aunt's began. Ann's mind was a meadow with bright flowers, pastel clouds, and jewel-toned trees. The grass gradually gave way to worn and cracked flagstone covered in grime. Weeds grew between them.

The sky changed in gradients from peaceful blue with gentle clouds into angry purple and stormy. Rain didn't fall, but lighting and thunder cut across Katerina's darker mind-scape. Even the air felt heavier, stagnant, almost poisonous. In the middle of the flagstones a craggy patch of land jutted upwards, revealing the ruins of a white, stone tower. It had a peacock colored dome on top and large arches engraved around the octagon structure.

_:Is this where you live, Tyotia Katerina?:_

_ :This is all that's left of me... my consciousness.:_

Ivan squinted his eyes. He could see faint blue cracks along the tower and deep into the sky and the ground. "Tyotia, what are those lines?"

"Later, my darling. We have so much work to do and not much time."

Her voice was as mellow as he remembered. She seemed unconcerned, and he sensed only a placidity from her mind, in spite of the stormy sky.

"Come along," she beckoned him towards the tower. Ivan felt trepidation as they entered the over-sized, dark, wood door. He noted the carvings on it were all Orthodox iconography. The interior was forlorn and wrecked.

Not one piece of elaborate furniture remained intact, and not one painting, mirror, or book was left unscathed by some invisible fury that had long since gone. Cobwebs were everywhere, and the only illumination was from lit sconces on the wall.

"You know, sleep is a limitation imposed on us by our bodies. Your father has used it as a control mechanism over you."

"I know. There are times that I've been awake or asleep, for ten, almost thirteen, days straight."

"This must change for you. When you go back, you must start maintaining normal sleep cycles. It's the first thing you must do to start achieving balance."

"I understand."

"Good." She smiled at him. "Let's start with the small things. Telepathy is always the first manifestation. I want you to pry the thoughts from my mind against the defense I've constructed."

"But I've done this a million times with Erika."

"Yes, but Erika isn't as creative as I am," Katerina said, her expression growing devious. Ivan smiled back, closed his eyes, and stretched his mind towards hers.

"Easy. You are thinking about some American man named Sam Harrison. You are replaying a conversation about... leaving? Going to a place called Montana..." Ivan's eyes flew open in surprise. "Is it true? You were going to leave Moscow at one time?"

"Yes, that was true, but that was an illusion meant to catch your attention. I crafted an emotional echo in my head. A loud one. Your telepathy picked up the first thing. You didn't get past to my real thought. Try again."

He closed his eyes again and stretched his mind further. He pushed past her thoughts of Harrison's promises of Montana, and then her faint inner voice whispered, _:Your friends are doing well. So block out your worries about them.:_

"It's true. I keep worrying about them."

"I know, Ivan, but rest assured, you'll see them again."

Ivan took a deep breath and nodded. "Tyotia, how did you create the emotional echo? Also... who was that man?"

She laughed. "One thing at a time. I'll teach you how to throw off telepathy first, and then I'll tell you about Sam."

* * *

Albert became aware of his breathing first, then a throbbing in his right shoulder. He was startled to actually have a sensation there. It had been deadened so long. He opened his eyes in spite of the glare and blinked away the heaviness in his eyelids.

"Sit up, 004," Gaia ordered. Albert's instinct to rebel took over; he wanted to sit up anyway in order to assess his situation.

He swung his legs over the edge of the surgical table and paused. His legs used to be almost totally metallic, but now, they were fleshy appearing almost to his knees. He touched the artificial flesh and realized he, once again, had sensation from his tights.

Then he examined his right hand. It was dark metallic again, but it was sleeker, more tapered. His left fingers traced upwards to where the metal stopped at his upper right arm. There was now artificial skin starting above where his bicep used to be. His shoulder was now artificial skin, and malleable, and had feeling again.

"004, are you functional?" Gilmore asked. Albert looked over to where the man stood across the room, an expression of concern on his face.

"What did you do to me?" His voice was so incredibly dry.

"Upgraded you. You now have a superior weapon system and some of your structure now is lighter weight and more durable. Now, you truly are a god of death," Gaia said, a gleam coming to his beady eyes.

Albert stared down at his right hand and made a fist slowly. He could tell the response was more acute, faster by far. Whatever changes they had made, Albert had the sinking feeling his body was more lethal now, regardless of his wishes or his humanity.

"Get up! It's time to test you!"

"No," Albert answered softly.

"Don't think we won't break you like we did 002!" Gaia raged.

Albert bit back his laughter. He knew they had hurt Jet a great deal, but they were far from breaking the boy. Albert slid off the table, glaring at the men. What he wouldn't risk was the idea of the Black Ghost inflicting more harm on Jet or Frances to get him to comply.

"What do you want me to do?"

Gilmore handed him a green uniform like the one before, only now it had a light blue scarf. Albert started pulling on his new uniform.

"There is an obstacle course you must run. After that, you can see the others."

* * *

Ivan felt the powerful mental blow to his head, then stomach, right before Katerina sent him flying miles across Ann's mind-scape. He plunged into a quiet pond and clawed his way back to the surface. He reached the surface again and swam to the edge. Katerina hovered above the edge with concern.

"I deserved that for something I did to my friend, so please don't apologize," Ivan said, flopping beside the pond.

"Still, I didn't want to hit you that hard. Telekinesis is your mother's strength, and I'm afraid you have to be prepared for her tricks."

"She never fights fair," Ivan agreed, slicking back his damp hair. "I know she's also developed methods to kill a person's body with it, like causing strokes and seizures, even stopping hearts with a thought."

"Yes, it's very repugnant."

"Do you know how to do that? Assassinate people with telekinesis?"

"No, I never developed my telekinesis to that point. I never could take a life. That's why I opened my mind more towards other abilities."

Ivan nodded. "I understand. I never want to kill anyone. That's why I wanted to leave the Black Ghost in the first place."

"I know, my darling, I also know you're experiencing some regret now. What is it?"

"I've severed a psychic link between twins before. Sometimes the screams... it was like... I felt as though I killed them. It haunts me."

"Was it in defense?"

Ivan nodded to her question. Her expression seemed troubled.

"You know, once there is a tear in a person's mental fabric, it can't be healed, just held together for a short while. From now on, you must be cautious when defending yourself. Always find the least response to a threat. If you give yourself over to rages again, you could end up committing murder or dooming a person to a life of torturous insanity."

Ivan nodded in earnest, fighting back his sorrow and guilt. "I guess we should try again. I failed."

"You're learning."

They traveled back to Katerina's mind-scape and walked towards the tower. Ivan couldn't help but notice the thin blue lines running through his aunt's mind-scape had widened slightly over the last few days. He stooped down as she walked on; he reached out and touched one of the glowing fractures.

He jumped to his feet at Katerina's scream. He ran over in time to catch her before she crumpled to the flagstones. He brushed whitish-gold hair off of her oval face and was surprised to see azure veins running under her translucent skin.

_:Tyotia!:_

Her brown eyes fluttered open, and then she brushed her hand across his cheek. _:Remember, Ivan, once there is a tear in a person's mental fabric, it can't be healed, just held together for a short while.:_

Dread hit Ivan as he helped Katerina to her feet. The lines seem to recede some, but her words remained stuck in his mind.

* * *

"Oh, Jet, your spelling is not so good, but you're a natural at grammar. It must be the Italian you grew up with. Usually, it's the other way with English speakers," Frances said, smiling up at him weakly. She handed back a pad of paper and pen to where Jet sat beside her bed.

It was a testament to the charm Jet could muster up that he was able to get more paper and pen from a nurse, in spite of his wired jaw. Frances suspected the woman was tired of cleaning the walls of German and English profanity, as well.

He took the paper and frowned at her corrections to his French paragraphs. Three days ago he had bugged Frances into teaching him how to write and read in French. She had been exhausted from the constant medication they plied her with, but she needed companionship more than sleep. For once, since she'd known Jet, there had been no arguments; he was consistently respectful.

He would still get frustrated when he would get things wrong, but he would get his patience back and keep trying until he got things right. He still couldn't talk to her, but she had grown to know Jet well enough to know he wasn't the same person. His changes had inspired within her more tolerance and concern for him.

The only disruption in Jet's newfound composure were the three times Frances tried to broach the subject of Albert. He'd pace and adopt a surly, aggressive attitude. It'd then take hours for Frances to coax him back to calm, so she stopped trying to talk about her concerns over Albert with Jet. She could tell he was still utterly inconsolable, but at least he was trying to keep busy.

A noise from down the hallway startled her. She reached out and shook Jet's arm; she then nodded towards the door. He nodded back in understanding as his eyes narrowed. He jammed the paper away under Frances's pillow and took up a defensive, clenched fisted stance beside her bed.

"Wait, it's..." Before she could finish, the door slid back. There were two guards flanking Albert. He was now wearing a green uniform, and Frances could see his legs and arm were restored. Jet looked utterly shocked; it was what Frances was feeling right now, too.

Albert walked in and gave Jet a lopsided smile and said, "I'm fine, Jet. I promise things are okay now."

Albert tugged Jet over to Frances's bedside and asked, "How are you doing?"

"We're fine, but how about you?" she answered.

She didn't miss the bitterness in his eyes. "They've changed me."

Jet snatched the paper and pen up. He scrawled something, pen in a balled up fist, and handed it to Albert. Frances watched Albert's eyebrows shoot up and then a warm grin appeared. "Haphazard French now? To answer your question, as far as I can decipher, they replaced my shoulder and thighs with artificial flesh, but that's not the important part."

He set aside the paper and yanked up the sleeve to reveal his right wrist. A small hole was there; Frances could tell it looked as if there were a piece missing because there seemed to be contacts on opposing sides.

"When I concentrate, I can see... extreme heat. Radiation?" she asked.

"They've replaced the ballistics with a laser system. I no longer need to find and have bullets, instead I need a power supply for my whole weapon's system. My body can recharge the whole thing, so I'm more self-sufficient in the long term. They've removed it for now, because I could easily melt those doors with it."

"What does this mean?" Frances asked.

"It means I'm a more efficient killer," Albert said gravely. She shivered, but it was Jet that reached out to lay his hand on Albert's right shoulder. The German man moved and refused to look at Jet; he began to pace back and forth, now looking thoughtful.

Albert glanced at Frances and said to her, "When there is an opening, you and Jet need to leave. I'm going to stay to find Ivan."

"You know they're listening in?"

"Yes, but I found they're rather arrogant. They aren't watching us all the time."

"But..."

He paused and whirled on Frances, flinging his left hand out, "Someone has to help him. I overheard they're putting him through surgery as well. What if they do remove his ability to feel or have any free will of his own?"

"We all stay together and leave together," Frances insisted, blocking Albert from continued pacing.

"Not this time!" Albert shouted back. "Do as I say!"

"Since when do you own us? You can't usurp our choices like they do," Frances shouted back, balling up her hands while fighting off tears of anger.

"Enough! It's settled," Albert said, turning his back to her and walking away. Frances gasped as Jet leaped in font of Albert and landed a solid, hard punch on the German's jaw. Albert went tumbling backwards and fell on his rump.

Jet was furious; he waved Albert to his feet. Albert slowly stood, then wiped the corner of his mouth in shock. He was leaking a little rusty colored liquid now. Jet balled up his fists, ready to fight. Albert's body tensed up as well.

"No! Please don't fight. It not right!" Frances's hands flew to her lips as she watched in horror.

Jet threw another rapid punch. It landed on Albert's left eye, but he only staggered back a few steps this time. Jet threw a left towards Albert's stomach. He was shocked, and so was Frances, when Albert's hand shot out and was able to grab Jet's wrist. Albert leveraged the shock and yanked Jet towards him.

"Let him go, Albert! Please stop fighting, you two! Please..." she wailed, as tears blurred her vision. She wrung her hands painfully tight.

Albert took Jet off balance, turned him around, and clenched Jet to his chest. Jet's feet lashed out. Albert fought to keep Jet's arms at his sides. He held Jet closer, pressing his chest to Jet's back.

Jet grew hysterical, thrashing his head around and trying to scream against his sealed teeth. Albert struggled to get the taller, young man over to a bed and penned down. Jet continued his frantic struggled, to which, Albert stubbornly restrained him.

"Hush! Calm down!" Albert shouted over and over in English. Jet's attempted screams were bestial and struck a primitive fright deep in Frances. What was worse, she could smell the small traces artificial blood from both of them. She sunk to her knees and endeavored to block out Albert and Jet's fight.

Time blurred as Frances sank to the cold, tiled floor, sobbing. Everything turned into a surreal nightmare as the odors of bleach and the humidity of the outside rainstorm were the only pieces of information she allowed into her consciousness.

Gradually, the humid pressure eased off of her skin's enhanced sensors, and Frances groaned as sunlight appeared gold and red through her eyelids. She forced herself to sit up and opened her eyes. Frances looked over towards where soft German was being murmured. Her eyes focused on Albert's bed as she quietly got to her feet.

Albert sat beside Jet, metallic hand firmly grasping Jet's shoulder. Jet breathed evenly, face buried against a pillow. Frances walked over and saw Albert's face was bruised in the morning light.

Albert met her eyes and gave her a reassuring smile. He pulled blankets over Jet's shoulders and brush back some stray, scarlet hair. Albert walked over to the window and leaned his left shoulder against the edge. Frances took in Albert's closed off body language when he crossed his arms over his chest; his face now grim.

"What a temper," Albert said. "We have to get him out of here soon; they're starving him. It's making it hard for him to think rationally anymore."

"I know." She took a deep breath.

"We'll stay together," Albert finally said, only after casting a long glance at Jet. Frances reached out and laid her hand on Albert's shoulder. He looked at her with a baffled expression.

"Thank you." He put his arm around her shoulder and drew close.

"Just don't sic him on me again."

She gave a gentle laugh. "What about Ivan?"

"I don't know, but hopefully he'll try to make contact soon and then we can make plans. It won't be long before they try to separate us."

"We have to leave before that happens. We need to support each other."

Albert nodded and took a deep breath. The turned and watched the morning sun turn the tropical island into a glistening jewel. All hints of last night's storm faded away.

* * *

Ivan screamed and lashed out, shaking the entire mind-scape around him violently. He could barely draw breath before the emotional assault ceased. He collapsed to his knees and looked up, fighting to take in large gulps of breath. He pounded his fist on the ground and shook his head.

"Why can't I get control over my empathy?"

"Emotions are difficult to deal with. I've known others with our talents who couldn't get a firm hold on their empathy."

Ivan sat down and drew his knees up so he rested his elbows on them. She sunk down beside him and said, "It takes time to develop control over each manifestation. It's surprising you developed this much power so quickly. I noticed that you have the least control when thinking of the other cyborgs."

"They've been my family for the last year and a half. I mean, didn't you ever want a family of your own?"

"I had a family at one time."

"What? When? Who?"

His rapid questions caused her to laugh and shake her head. There was now a heaviness in her eyes. There was a subtle rumbling from the sky. Ivan was dismayed to see a sluggish raindrops fall from the sky; he held out his hand to see they were like tiny, liquid opals. Each fell through the cracks lacing the stormy sky. The same oozed up from the cracks in the flagstone; even the tower bled small rivers of opal.

"What's happening, Tyotia?"

He stood and a wave of vertigo hit. His aunt leaped up and supported him, his joints and muscles felt on fire. To him it made no sense, because he was still incorporeal.

"Calm down, darling," she said, leading him into the broken-down tower. She helped him lean next to the fireplace as he tried to catch his breath.

"What's going on?"

"You've changed. On the outside."

Ivan shook off his confusion and held out his hand. He picked up several pieces of mirror with his mind and pressed them to a stone wall. He looked carefully at his image; he was now taller. He could see he now appeared to be Frances's age.

He looked at his aunt's reflection over his shoulder. She shielded her eyes with her arm; Ivan could sense her anxiety. He turned to look at her just as she flung her arm out, sending mirror shards flying with her telekinesis.

"Why do mirrors still cause you discomfort?"

"Because with clairvoyance reflective surfaces... talk to you. They whisper lies and truths... they tell you to do all sorts of evil things..."

"Wasn't there a way to help prevent it?"

"Prevent it? I did it to myself," she admitted, lowing her arm from her eyes.

"What?"

"Instead of waiting for it to come naturally, I forced my mind to develop it early."

"Why would you do such a thing? Evey psychic knows that clairvoyance and insanity come together. It's to be avoided."

"I did it because of Sam."

"You never did tell me about him."

"He was caught spying by your mother. He was a very talented psychic. That's how we met."

"You were in love with him, weren't you?" Ivan asked, watching his aunt sit on the fireplace hearth. He sat beside her, intrigued.

"Yes, it was a few years before you were born. We were going to leave Moscow, but a government psychic got to him first. I felt so guilty; if only I had foreseen what was going to happen to him. I kept thinking I could have prevented his death. And then, a few days after he was killed I found out I was pregnant. I was terrified for my baby because I felt there was something wrong with her. I just wanted to do what was best for her."

"But I didn't know I have a cousin."

"Had. She passed away a year after I had her. She had a condition known as hydrocephalus. Oh your father worked so hard to save her, but... she was too far gone. He was so determined, but there was nothing he could do for all of his genius. After she died, it was too late for me. I had prodded my clairvoyance to such a level I couldn't control myself any longer. Your mother protected me for a very long time, but she had very little choice but to commit me."

"It's hard for me to imagine them doing something like that."

"That's why I asked for you to show them some mercy. Soon I'll be gone, and you'll be going back to your body."

Ivan jumped to his feet and shook his head. "No! I won't allow it. I'll rebuild your mind. I can do it. Just watch! I'll do it."

"No! You mustn't," she pleaded, but Ivan crouched down and put his palm on the flagstone. He summoned energy together and then unleashed it. A sudden jolt traveled up his arm, and he was flung backwards. The landscape shuddered and then quelled. Katerina helped him sit upright and hugged him tightly.

He started sobbing and clung to her. When he finally calmed down, all that remained was guilt and desperation.

"I can't save you, can I? Just like you could save her?"

"No."

"Just tell me what her name was."

"Tonia."

To be continued.

_**The following is from WingedPanther73's blog:**_

Well, I pestered Sybil into watching it [Legend of the Super Galaxy] with me. Here's my rough analysis.  
1) The characterization is roughly on par with what I've seen from Suethors, only not as good.  
2) When attempting to avoid plot holes, don't start by constructing the plot out of a doily cloth.  
3) When attempting to write a fan movie, don't base your characters off all the information you can fit on a 3x5 inch notecard.  
4) Cold popcorn's not as good as warm popcorn. (OK, it started out warm, but we didn't eat it fast enough)  
5) When did G. Junior get so talkative?  
6) When did Ivan forget how to kick ass?  
7) When did Joe learn how to inspire trust?  
8) When did GB gain that half-assed accent? You can't do Shakespeare with a bad Irish accent.  
9) When reviewing the source material, don't stop after they defeat the electricity twins. (I'm not sure they got as far as 0012 and 0013)  
10) Muenster cheese makes a better model for a coherent plot than baby swiss cheese.  
11) Mourning for a lost lover takes longer than 5 seconds.  
12) Since when do lasers act like nerve gas?  
13) If a guy who is holding a single hostage is shooting scores of your men, wouldn't you shoot the f'ing hostage?  
14) If your civilization got devastated by an alien attack, why would you forget how to use advanced tools and suddenly become masters of the bow and arrow... when there's nothing to hunt?  
15) Why can't the psychic who can project an image of herself all over the place and teleport people around trash the robot keeping her captive?  
16) When bombarding a planet with weapons that level everything, how do you get erect ruins?  
17) When a powerful psychic is looking for someone to father her child, you'd think she'd avoid the STERILE ALIEN CYBORG.  
18) Speaking of psychic, since when does being psychic turn your hair purple, and give you better cloths than the rest of your civilization?  
19) Why is Ivan the only psychic who can't teleport?  
20) When drawing eyes, what would possess you to make them pop further out of your skull than your big bushy bangs? [Sybil's note: he's referring to Ivan's creepy eyes in the movie. They did draw him very strange.]

I think that'll do for now :)


	23. Chapter 23

[I'm back... Sorry it took so long, but life got very hectic, and I really needed a break. I do an educational, after school outreach program and it was time to start it again. I had to cut back on the writing more than I wanted. Now I can charge in enthusiastic again. I still love this story more than anything I've ever written so please don't think I've abandon it. I really want to finish it soon.

This chapter is the obligatory escape scene. The following chapter, 24, is more of a setup for Albert coming to peace over Hilda and Frances coming to peace as well. I hope all of you will continue to stick with me. I do apologize for taking so long of a pause, and I won't make that a habit. I do appreciate your loyalty and support. Thank you.]

Chapter 23:

Takuma Shimamura paced back and forth, watching his sister sip a glass of wine. He liked her stolid expression; it meant things were going well, and she had no worries. He picked up his own wine from the coffee table and sat beside her.

"You have news about your activities in Vietnam?" he started off.

"I've had a fifty-seven percent return on our joint investment on the weapons' shipment. Thankfully, Rhys-Davies was taken care of by those rogue cyborgs, and we could open the market for ourselves."

"Good. And how is my son?"

"He's growing. A very silent child. He'll be a Shimamura like us."

Takuma threw his head back and let out a dry laugh. "So the world is cursed with one more. I intend for him to be the heir to the family's electronics company."

"That will be up to you and how he's raised. Now, you have news that interest me."

"The Merchants of Death meeting?" he asked, not missing the gleam in her eyes. "They voted to sell 003 and 004 in a silent auction next Thursday. There are some bidders for 003, but the starting bid for 004 is pretty high. Still, he's well sought after. 001 is on his way to a new body. I gave your Russian friends your well wishes."

"It's a horrible shame to have a son so rebellious."

"The Gamo's have persuaded the Black Ghost to not put him into the market. The Merchants voted to keep him on the island at their request; he'll be working for the Black Ghost. He's too powerful for one country to acquire just now. We'll need him for the final plans."

"When the Earth is embroiled in war, it'll be him that will bring all the countries under the Black Ghost rule?"

"Exactly," he agreed. "Anyway, he stays with the Gamos. Meanwhile, we had a close vote over what to do about 002. Doctor Yana made a petition to put him to death, but the cost was so high in building him. The fear was that he'd be too rebellious to be a useful servant. The compromise is that his vocal cords will be cut after he's sold along with a kill switch on a remote control. He'll be sold to a country of Scar's choosing. Someone strong enough to control him, and... apart from the other two."

"I see. Things are progressing nicely for the organization. I think, by next year, we should expand our operation inland," she said. "When I go back to films, it'll be a good opportunity for you to take over and expand."

"Should have known you wouldn't stay as my nanny."

"Well, let him stay with me. I'll raise your son as a Shimamura. After all, you like how Ryu is turning out."

"Maybe," he said, letting the idea grow on him. He stood and set aside his glass. "I'll call you tomorrow morning."

* * *

"But I don't want to go!" Ivan screamed, glass and debris floated around slowly like dust mites in sunlight.

"But you must," Katerina insisted softly. "It's time to go scout the situation with your friends, and then wait for me to make the way for your escape."

"You must come with me! I will not leave without you." The scraps shivered with Ivan's fury as he clenched his fists tighter.

"I can't. This is going to be Ann's mind in a few short days. You will just have to accept that!"

"No! I will change this! I can reverse it. My father is nothing, but a crazy butcher. I can undo anything he's done. I know it. I'm much stronger now."

"You still have no discipline over your emotions. Besides..." she walked over and put her hands on his shoulders, "...I have foreseen this. It will happen."

"Please..." he threw himself into her arms and hugged her tightly, "...don't leave me."

"It's time, Ivan. I need to spend the rest of my time with Ann while you contact your friends. You need to reassure them."

"But what about Ann? Can't I at least take her with us?"

Katerina pulled away from him, shaking her head franticly. "No! It's not her destiny."

"I can teach her and protect her!"

"She needs to learn from your mother, not you. You aren't ready for that kind of responsibility."

"My mother will teach her to kill. How could you support that?"

"Because! The future is not yours to control. You must learn you have limits. It's going to be a lesson you will not hear from me, but it's something you will learn rather painfully in the same way I did."

Ivan felt a jolt hit him; the glass shards and debris wavered and crashed around them. "You mean... I'll go mad, don't you?"

Katerina said, in a firm voice, "Go, darling. It's time."

He nodded feeling a black sorrow creep into his mind. "I'm not ready. I have more I need to learn," Ivan admitted, helplessly.

"Don't loose yourself to arrogance like I did. It's the last thing I have to teach you. Now... I will have to say I love you. There won't be time again."

Ivan felt his vision blur as he hugged her fiercely again. "I love you too."

"Then don't make this any harder," she said, squeezing him back and then parting from him slowly. She stepped back and smiled at him.

"Good bye, Tyotia Katerina."

"Good bye, my little Ivan."

Ivan closed his eyes and felt the ground under him grow cool to icy. He felt as if it were sinking through the ground, and then he was tugged towards his body. Slowly, he began to feel a tingle within his mind; it spread to his chest and then quickly to his limbs.

He drew breath again, and it stung his nose with the cloying antiseptic. He opened his eyes and could see his parents standing by his bed, once again, both looking anxious. Ivan could feel the anxiety from them, and then their sudden spike in happiness lapped at his mind. He was amazed he could, for once, separate his emotions from theirs. It was a huge improvement.

"Say something, Ivan," his mother pleaded.

"I'm fine, mother," he insisted.

"Thank goodness," she said. "Stand up and looked at your new self."

Trepidation hit Ivan, but he complied. He felt so awkward and heavy as he stumbled towards a full-length mirror on the wall, but his parents helped him. He was disoriented as his mind tried to process his new face and body. He looked like the same boy, only slightly older. He wasn't as lanky any more, and he was a lot taller now. His hair was now light brown, but his eyes were still mismatched. One brown, blue.

"How do you like it?" his father asked.

He was numb at first, then furious. He took a deep breath and summoned a mental echo to keep his mother's mind at bay. It was him replaying the time when he confessed his feelings to Frances. It was very emotional and very loud. He knew his mother couldn't wade through it easily.

He forced a smile and said, "I want to go show off my new self to my friends."

"As you wish," his mother mumbled, looking concerned. He could tell she was probing his mind, but she was fooled. Erika had no clue about all the time he spent training with Katerina. He felt a genuine smile come to his lips as he followed her out of the hospital room.

* * *

Albert sat and watched his fellow cyborgs; Jet practiced his writing at the foot of Albert's bed, while while Frances used the window sill to steady herself as she did some graceful stretches. He didn't want to let them know what he was starting to suspect.

The Black Ghost would be moving them soon, using them as weapons of war. He kept glancing at the door every few minutes, not able to shake his tension. The one thing his father had taught him was incredible patients, but even his was starting to get strained.

He felt Jet shake his foot and give him a worried expression only after Frances's back was to them. Albert gave him a lop-sided smile and shook his head. Jet gave him a disbelieving scowl and handed him the paper he was writing on. The word _'_**_Lügner'_** was the only thing on it.

Before Albert could retort with '...and so...,' Frances gasp and swirled towards the door. They both looked over and moments late it unlock. He couldn't repress his shock at seeing the older teenager in the door. He could certainly see it was Ivan, but it was as if the boy had been aged five years over the last several weeks.

"Ivan?" Frances finally murmured, breaking the spell. She flung herself into his arms and they embraced for several long minutes. Jet hopped off the bed and parted the two with a hostile attitude towards the Russian cyborg. He gave a firm shove to the boy and glared as Ivan's mother came in, her eyes a deep, angry amethyst.

Albert didn't miss the belligerent posturing Jet had now as he shielded Frances from Ivan. _:No... don't fight me. Just still your minds and emotions...:_

Albert took a deep breath; he wished he was in physical proximity to wrap his arms around Jet and Frances and yank them away. Ivan started to pace and make a vocal speech about submitting to the Black Ghost and regretting running away; however, Albert's mind buzzed with Ivan's real words.

_:My mother can't hear me.:_ Ivan kept his back towards her, his right eye glowed a dim blue. _:I have a friend who will help us escape in a few days. You must not try to escape until she says so.:_

Albert could tell Jet was, no doubt, giving Ivan a mental lashing along with a migraine. The Russian's eyes squinted, but all he did was glare at Jet; Albert would give anything to have telepathy right now.

"Enough time waisting!" Ivan snapped, flinging his hand towards Jet's nose. "Do as they say or suffer the consequences!" Then, Ivan's mental voice projected, _:Have some faith in me. I swear I'll do right by all of you, but for now you have to reject me to throw my mother off. I have her too distracted to pick up anything from the three of you. Do it now!:_

"Don't you worry, Ivan. You're home now, so stay. Have a nice life as a dog," Albert said, incredulous at his own bitter tone. Frances and Jet both stepped back and looked away from him awkwardly.

Ivan turned on his heels and marched out of the room. It was his mother's furious expression that made Albert shiver. "You'll all pay for hurting my son! Especially, you!" she screamed in German, pointing at Frances.

With that, she swirled and lumbered out after Ivan, slamming the door to their dormitory. Albert looked over to the other two, both looked drained and shocked. He smirked and said, "Well, Jet, I thought you'd be grateful they didn't let him get taller than you."

Jet gave him a dirty look and an extended middle finger. Albert laughed out loud, then Jet smiled as much as he could and rolled his eyes. What Albert didn't like was Frances's dark expression as she stared at the door.

* * *

_:Katerina! I've made contact. We're ready, so why are we waiting?: _Ivan projected. He started at the shadow play on the ceiling of his bedroom in the Gamo's apartment; he was wrapped in several covers on his single bed.

_:Visit Doctor Gilmore tomorrow morning and play a game of chess. You'll find out,:_ Katerina projected back. _:He's working on an object. You will need to trust him.:_

_:Yes, Tyotia... and...:_

_:I must go and continue helping Ann. Take care.:_

Her presences left his awareness; he was left alone with his frustration. She refused to tell him anything about the future or the steps he should take. He rolled over to his side and tried to force himself into sleep, but his energy levels were spiked so high he knew he wouldn't sleep for months unless something goaded him to expend his capital energy at a high rate.

* * *

_:This is what your aunt was referring to, 001:_ Gilmore's thought drifted to Ivan's mind as he moved a black chess piece forward half way across the board: a rook. Ivan couldn't see anything on the outside, but he could tell with his telekinesis it weighed twice as much as the other rooks.

:What is it?:

_:A power device for 004. His new system depends on a power source they removed from his arm. They have it under lock and key; and they refused to let me have any knowledge of it. I think I've reproduced something that can work for about nineteen hours at a time. It'll due, but... it needs work. Kaminari would be our best bet for a long term fix. Give me until tomorrow to have this one ready.:_

_:You need to work quicker!:_ Ivan moved his white knight and knocked over a black pawn. He crossed his arms with a glare at the middle aged scientist. Gilmore's brow furrowed; Ivan could feel the man's anxiety.

_:Right now, it's not ready. It could overload 004 and destroy him.:_

Ivan nodded._ :Take the time you need, but please... I think they'll part us soon if you don't hurry. Still, be careful with Albert's life.:_

_:I'll do my best. And check,:_ Gilmore thought, getting a wide smile. Ivan looked down in dismay, seeing his white king in jeopardy by a black queen and scowled at his disadvantage. He dismissed his foreboding and took Gilmore's queen with his white rook.

_:We'll all leave together. You included.:_

The man gave him a grim expression and nodded. _:I'll do my best.:_

* * *

_:Why are you pacing?:_

Ivan flinched at his mother's telepathic question. He looked over to where she was reading Fyodor Dostoyevski's _Notes from Underground_. She didn't bother looking up from what Ivan considered an existentialist nightmare. Ivan checked his mental shields, relieved they were still up.

_:I have very little to do.:_ Ivan watched his mother's face drop into a scowl, her eyes still reading the words from the book.

_:Soon. You can accompany your father and me to Moscow. Our beloved country seems bent on picking a fight with the United States over this whole Berlin Wall issue. We'll be convincing the government into maintaining a hostile posture. It's time you did take up your first mission with Black Ghost. I don't see why this wouldn't be an excellent exercise for you.:_

Ivan finally worked up the courage to ask his mother, _:This morning I sensed a lot of new minds on the island. What's going on?:_

_ :An auction is being held this afternoon after a meeting.:_

_ :The Merchants?:_

_ :Yes.:_

_ :What kind of auction?:_

_ :003 and 004 are being bid on. Skull has located someone to take 002 off of our hands.:_

Ivan schooled his face to appear impassive. His emotions threatened to lash out, tickling his telekinesis, but he was able to tamp it down before he shattered something.

_:They are being split up?:_

_ "Why of course, son. One country can't hold all the power yet. Don't worry about it. Now be a dear and make some tea for us. Your father will want some when he gets back.:_

Ivan was grateful to get away from his mother's hated presence. His hands trembled in rage as he started preparing the tea. He was startled by Ann's sudden appearance at his side. The Czech girl wore the drab, old-fashioned clothing his mother provided her, and her glossy, black hair was twisted in tight braids around her head.

Her eyes glowed a deep green, not amber. His heart clenched, knowing what little of Katerina was left was almost gone. Ann held out her hand and looked up at Ivan. An onyx rook rested in her palm. Her sweet, high voice sounded in his mind, _:Katerina says it's time. You are to go to your friends now, before your father gets home. I'll have to bring Gilmore to you. Katerina says that I'll not remember anything after that moment. I'll only have loyalty to your mother, so you should treat me like an enemy from that moment on.:_

Ivan's lips clenched, but he nodded as he took the chess piece from her. He could feel his father's mind get closer. He grabbed her upper arm and thought, _:Go! Now has got to be the moment Katerina knew would come.:_

The girl turned, but cast a worried expression over her shoulder. Her anxiety was like a hot ember flickering against his forehead. He gave her a reassuring smile and nodded. Ivan let out a sigh as she scampered off.

He clenched the chess piece and took a deep breath. He spiked his energy to a high level. Erika's voice echoed in his mind, _:Ivan! What are you...:_

He pulled his body threw space and appeared suddenly in the dormitory. Jet was the only one left there. He was chained to a chair, beaten black and blue, slumped forward. Ivan easily, mentally tossed the pair of guards, standing at the New Yorker's side, into the back wall.

_:Jet! Where are the...:_

_:They took them and sold them this morning! Behind you!:_

Ivan swirled and froze as the scientist, Doctor Noboru Yana, appeared in the doorway. The man looked grim and surprised as a scalpel fell from his fingers.

Ivan glared at the man and lofted the scalpel with his telekinesis. He turned it towards the man and stepped closer. "You're not going to cut him ever again! Back off or I'll be forced to destroy more than your hand."

Yana's eyes grew wide in fear before he turned tail and ran. Ivan let the scalpel clatter to the ground, turned to Jet, and burst the chains holding him down. He rushed to Jet and helped him to unsteady feet.

_:Where are the others?: _Ivan asked.

_:They said they're flying them off the island!:_

The alarms started sounding, Ivan gasped and cursed the thought of his mother coming after him.

"Wait!" a girl shouted over the klaxon. Ivan turned to see Ann and Gilmore in the hallway. He and Jet jogged to them. "This is all I can do for you! Your mother... quick! Leave! She's coming, and she'll punish you if she catches you."

"I'll come for you one day. I won't let you stay here," Ivan promised, feeling frustrated by his aunt's dire direction. He grabbed Gilmore and Jet's arms and dragged them with him through space.

* * *

Ivan shook horribly with the effort; his energy was starting to drop. He took his hands away from Jet and Gilmore and looked around the airstrip on the east side of Island X, now dubbed Ghost Island. Two planes were preparing to take off. He stretched his mind and determined which place Frances was on. He desperately wanted to go to that one first, but he knew Albert would give them more of a chance if he was freed first.

He extended his mind to the other plane starting to taxi the runway. Albert was there. Ivan had never teleported onto a moving object, but he had little choice and his energy was dwindling quickly. Ivan drew himself through space towards the plane's cargo-hold.

He stumbled realizing he was in midair and falling towards earth. Rapidly, he jerked himself towards where the plane would be in a minute. That got him on. He landed with a thunk on the cargo-hold. Ivan had several riffles trained on him in seconds by terrified guards, but he thought better of a fight. He saw a very dour Albert sitting on a create, cuffed.

Ivan took a deep breath and mentally tugged Albert with him back down towards the earth. They both hit the ground in an awkward tangle a few feet from Gilmore and Jet. Albert groaned, shook his head, and jumped to his feet.

"Thanks, I think," Albert said, looking disoriented. Ivan cursed his limitations; he was burning energy too fast or Albert wouldn't be so effected. He reached in his pocket and handed Albert the black rook.

"Put it in!"

"Thanks!" Albert said, snatching it in recognition. He pushed it in a small, empty space on his right wrist and flexed his metallic fingers with a smirk. "Perfect!"

"We need to get Frances!" Ivan shouted, but a huge vibration in the air knocked the four of them flat to the ground. Ivan coughed and sat up. His mother walked through the dusty cloud, her amethyst eyes almost blinding. Following her was Ann, her eyes glowing a bright green. Panic hit him when he realized he was almost drained. There was no way to defend against the both of them; plus, he really couldn't bring himself to fight Ann anyway.

_:Ivan! How dare you? I know the treachery on your mind!:_

_ :You'll not stop us, Erika! We will escape again,:_ Ivan thought back. He glanced back at Albert and projected, _:Get ready. I'll put us on Frances's plane. After that, I'll be spent. The rest will be up to you and Jet!:_

"We've got it," Albert shouted.

Ivan reached out mentally and grabbed Albert, Jet, and Gilmore. He focused on the plane several miles off the coast and then dragged them all through space right as his mother's hand shot up in the air.

_:Ivan!:_ He shivered as his mother's mental voice echoed his head. Darkness lifted and the four of them lurched forward and dropped from midair. They sprawled on the floor of the cargo hold.

"Ivan!" Frances shouted, but his body was too heavy to move. He felt the last of his energy drain away and then his mind sunk into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Albert quickly lofted his hand in spite of his disorientation. He took aim and fired at the guards surrounding Frances. The five men dropped at Frances's feet, smoldering lazer marks were on each chest. She rushed to Albert and gave him a brief embrace. He held her arms and looked her over.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, but the airplane..."

Jet tapped her on the shoulder and waved her towards the cockpit. Albert followed knowing what was on Jet's mind. He raced ahead of his fellow cyborgs and lofted his hand at the back of the pilot's head. He and the co-pilot were oblivious.

"Surrender now!" The two swirled around in surprise. Jet yanked the pilot out of the seat and jumped behind the controls. The co-pilot rose as well, hands raised. Albert shoved them to the cargo hold. Albert avoided looking at the men he had to kill. He found rope and tied the two men together and shoved them to the floor.

He jogged back to the cockpit where Frances now set beside Jet, trying her best to help Jet. Gilmore stood behind Jet, but cast a worried look at Albert.

"Go look after Ivan, Doctor," Albert ordered, in hopes the man could get his mind off what was going on. The middle-aged doctor nodded and went to find the physic Russian.

"Do you know what the hell you're doing?" Albert snapped towards the back of Jet's head. The New Yorker spared half a minute to flip Albert off before getting back to fiddling with the controls.

"Jet! There are planes pursuing us now, but they're not gaining on us," Frances said, hand to the side of her head. Jet gave a crisp nodded and continued his piloting. Albert slumped forward against the back of the pilot's seat. After half an hour Frances announced, "We've lost them!"

She looked up at Albert and asked, "Where do we go from here?"

Albert racked his brain for a place they could catch a breath. He looked down when he felt Jet's scarlet, spiked hair against his left arm. The New Yorker pointed to Frances.

"I don't understand," Albert said. Jet looked aggravated. He leaned forward and traced the word 'Paris' on the plane's window. Jet's finger left no trace, but Albert still read the word clearly from Jet's hand motions.

Albert flinched back and gave Jet a crafty smirk. "You are brilliant. Go back to where we were taken from. And we can look for Jean-Paul again."

Albert noticed a deep red come to Jet's skin before the young man jerked his attention back to the controls. Jet still didn't take compliments gracefully, and Albert wondered if he ever would.

To be continued.


	24. Chapter 24

[I hope you enjoyed 23. Thanks to all of you who liked Ivan's aunt. She was fun.

Now things will pick up. Poor Jet... My hubby thinks I ought to be nice to Jet and hook him and Albert up pretty soon. I think, he's just pities him for all the torture I've put him through. Oh well... we'll have some action in the next chapter...

This one shows some more character growth. Oh yeah... give me feedback about Gilmore, Kaminari, and Kozumi being a regular fixture in the background. I'm leaning towards it.

On to chapter 25!]

Chapter 24:

Jet found the nearest place to land was Japan, once again. And, once again, they headed towards Kozumi's doorstep. It was late at night, but Albert, carrying Ivan's unconscious form, warned everyone to stay alert.

The Japanese scientist, when they arrived, got them in a car and rushed them to his laboratory at Tokyo University. It was secure and underground. The first thing the man did was help Gilmore check Ivan out. They made sure he was stable and lying on a metal autopsy table before leaving him to Frances's watchful eye and turning to Jet.

Jet felt his heart thud as Gilmore grabbed up an instrument that looked like pliers and said, "Let's get that junk out of your mouth."

"I don't know... maybe you should leave it in," Albert said. Jet knew the man was joking, but it stung hard. Albert, who was slumped over on a chair, elbows on knees, was watching him. Jet figured there must have been something that conveyed his hurt because Albert's face went from a sly smirk to a concerned frown.

Jet whirled away and sat in a chair across the room, his back to Albert. Gilmore held up the pliers and Kozumi a syringe. He shook his head at the pain killers. "But... this is going to hurt," Gilmore explained.

Jet shook his head again, leaned his head back, and let them pull apart his lips. Gilmore didn't lie. The pain to his gums was unbearable. He caved into to pain medicine half way through. Once it was finished, and his mouth was free, Kozumi dabbed a yellowish goo on his gums and helped him rinse his mouth out at a sink. Jet leaned over the sink, but glanced over his shoulder when he felt cool metal touch on his upper arm. It was Albert.

"Come on. My turn to take care of you for a while."

Jet opened his mouth to tell Albert to go take a jump off a cliff, but his voice was totally gone. His eyes went wide and his hands flew to his throat in shock.

Albert gave him a reassuring smile. "It'll come back after a while. You haven't said a word in three months. Don't worry; rest and a little food will do you some good."

Jet felt too weak and shaky to resist Albert's orders. He glanced to make sure Frances was dozing in an upholstered chair beside the table Ivan was on before he totally submitted to Albert. Kozumi brought some blankets out of a cupboard and said, "It's all I have. Tomorrow I'll get some food."

"It's kind of you to help us like this again, Herr Doctor," Albert said, nodding his thanks. Gilmore found a comfortable chair on the other side of the room, wrapped himself in a blanket, and dropped off soundly. Jet watched Albert make a pallet on the cold, linoleum floor and motioned Jet over.

Jet stumbled over and collapsed on the scratchy wool. Albert said, "You're probably used to sleeping on the floor now?"

Jet looked up at him, for once nothing came to his head to say. Usually, he could always think of something clever, but there were no words. Albert turned off the lights, only a dull, greenish lamplight from across the room provided light. Albert then sat beside Jet on the pallet.

Albert whispered, "I never did thank you for everything you did back there. You have incredible strength, and I admire that."

Jet felt as if the breath were knocked out of him. He wouldn't, no couldn't, listen to Albert's voice any longer. It dredged up all sorts of conflicts in his head he was too tired to deal with.

He forced the word, "Night," out, but it was craggy and pitched all wrong. He turned his back to Albert and rested his head on his out stretched arm. His sleep was as fitful as that one night back in the Paris apartment he had shared with Albert so long ago.

At that time, he'd really disliked Albert a great deal. He was too overbearing and way too dour. Now, Jet had no clue what was bothering him so much about Albert. All Jet knew was he suddenly wanted to run as far away as he could from the older man.

* * *

The next morning, Frances sat around a laboratory table with her two, awake cohorts and the Jewish scientist. All of them were silent. It wasn't long before Kozumi joined them with some fruit and bread, fresh clothing as well.

"Well, I called around to a few people I know. The Black Ghost is going around the scientific community trying to find you five."

"Figures. We cost them a lot of money," Jet hoarsely, and bitterly, spat out in German. Frances hoped Jet's voice wasn't going to sound like that for the rest of his life; it reminded her of chalk on a blackboard.

"We need to move... by this afternoon," Albert said. "Jet recommended Paris, and I still think that should be our plan."

"Yes, most certainly," Frances agreed enthusiastically, smiling for the first time in months.

"Certainly. Of course, you'll have to get to an airport and then you can get a flight. I can get you tickets through the university," Kozumi offered.

"Good idea, but we have to move fast before the authorities are on the look out for us," Albert said. The man nodded and left quickly. "Doctor Gilmore?"

"What is it, 004?"

"Are you sure you want to come with? You could stay here."

"Yes, I'm sure I want to escort you. Besides, we need to get Kaminari to figure out what to do about your arm. You need a better power source. We can come up with something together, I think. But... that man tries my patience something fierce."

"If you're sure. If you're caught..."

"I know perfectly well what the consequences are. I intend to atone for what I've done," Gilmore snapped, a hard look in his eyes as Albert turned over the rook shaped power source from his arm. "Besides, you and 003 will start feeling withdrawal from the painkillers they've been pumping you full of. I need to monitor you both."

Frances felt her heart flutter with the dreadful though of withdrawal. Her mind dredged up beatniks sitting around cafes. She sighed and started pacing. Jet caught her sleeve and tugged it. His eyebrow was quirked, and he didn't need to say a thing for her to understand the question.

"I'm fine, Jet. I just want to get back home."

* * *

They were greeted in Paris with a torrential downpour. They quickly left the airplane; they were mixed with the other passengers, but separated into smaller pairs. Albert traveled with Kozumi, acting as a music professor. They were supposedly meeting at a convention for education professionals at the University of Paris. Since Albert actually had teaching credentials, it wasn't hard for him and Kozumi to travel without suspicion.

Gilmore traveled as a grieving father bring his son's coffin back from a fateful trip to Japan; Ivan was nestled in a coffin resting deeply in the cargo-hold. Many people offered solemn looks, but most wouldn't intrude on Gilmore's supposed pain.

Jet and Frances played the part of young newlyweds, both reluctantly. They didn't bicker, but they certainly didn't seem natural. Several eyes would drift over to them, casting baffled expressions. It wasn't until they were walking by themselves in the terminal that Frances gave Jet a scrutinizing look he didn't much care for.

He prayed the others would join them soon, so he could stop pretending to be something that made him painfully uncomfortable. He stopped fidgeting from foot to foot when she laid her hand on his elbow; her brow was furrowed. A thunderclap and flickering florescent lights cut off what she was about to say for half a minute, but she asked him the same question she had asked him on the plane.

"Really, Jet, is this how you treated all your girlfriends?"

He glared down at her and said, his voice still hoarse, but a little better, "Would you stop with the girlfriend nonsense? You noticed I didn't go seek out any dames when we were back in the Big Apple. That's not how I used to spend my time."

"Surely you must have..."

Jet rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. He figured he'd have to be a little more blunt. "Frannie, the few girl's I went around with were pretty loose. I didn't pick them to go steady, if you know what I mean."

Frances blushed and shook her head. "That's very sad. You should try to find the right girl and settle down."

"What? When? We're on the run all the time, if you didn't notice."

Now she glared. "Oh, I didn't notice at all, being on that three month resort island and all."

Jet flinched back in shock and slowly smiled. "Wow, great come back."

"I've been hanging around you too much."

"Not again," Albert said, walking up with a bright smile.

"We aren't fighting," Frances insisted with a sigh. "So why are you so happy?"

"We made it to Paris. Now we can start over again," Albert said. "Gilmore and Kozumi are going to meet us with Ivan. They're at the same hotel we were taken from."

"Wow. You really are a badass cat, Al. We better beat feet before the fuzz start looking 'round."

"Did you understand a word he said?" Albert asked Frances in English. Jet knew it was to tweak him; he saw the taunt behind those cool, steely eyes.

"Not a one, but I think he complimented you," she replied in English as well. "But I guess we'll have to sharpen our English."

"Okay, I'm tired and hungry. I ain't sparring with you two," Jet said, stalking off towards the glass doors and the pouring rain outside. He smirked as they caught up to him and walked side-by-side into the intense night weather.

* * *

When they got to the hotel lobby, Albert booked two rooms: one he'd share with Jet, and the other for Frances. He also inquired if Kozumi had made it. Albert found out that he and Doctor Gilmore were safely tucked away in their shared room. He wondered where they had stored Ivan, but had faith they were taking good care of him.

They escorted Frances towards the elevator, but Frances grabbed Albert's arm and pointed to a sign on an easel by a huge, lush, green plant. His eyes scanned it quickly. It was an advertisement for _Ballet de l'Opéra national de Paris_.

He gave Frances a baffled look, but she explained, "We have no leads, so we may as well start with Natalie. Jean-Paul may have contacted her."

"Why would he do that?" Jet scoffed.

"Because he's a gentleman who would want to make sure she was safe, in spite of what she's done. Trust me. I know Jean-Paul," she said with such conviction, all Albert could do was nod.

"Kaminari won't be here until tomorrow. May as well," Albert agreed, but he gave her a stern look. "However, we go together."

Frances nodded as the elevator opened. The three of them ambled in and rode the elevator up to their rooms on the same floor as the two doctors.

* * *

"... this will help take the edge off," Kozumi said darkly, handing France and Albert small cups of a reddish liquid. "They had you on a newer, experimental drug for pain. This, I think, will counter the effects, but by the end of the week you may start feeling sick. Once that happens, you can't go back. You have to ride it out."

Frances watched Albert nod, tight lipped, and swallow the liquid. She hesitated, but she had woken up, shaky and sweaty. Her joints ached, and that terrified her. Her mind went to thoughts of never being able to dance again.

"But, Doctor..."

"My dear, I promise you'll be good as new."

She nodded and did as Albert. A brief wave of dizziness hit when it reached her empty stomach. Albert patted her shoulder and she followed him out into the hotel hallway where Jet leaned against the wall, a severe expression firmly in place.

"Are you two going to be okay?" he asked, following them to the elevator.

"We're survivors," Albert answered with a lop-sided smile. He turned to Frances and asked, "So you think we'll find her at practice?"

"Certainly."

They left the hotel without sharing another word. Frances guided them through the busy Paris streets, lit only by summer's dawn light. It wasn't too far before they reached the giant hall Frances still dreamed of. The grand entrance was flanked with sculptures and marble columns. A deep ache crept into her stomach; it was a longing she hadn't had a chance to dwell on since Australia.

Now, seeing where she rightfully belonged, was also easier than she thought. There was nothing she could do to change her life now. It made it easier to accept she may never dance again with Jean-Paul still missing. She'd gladly trade her red slippers away to know her brother was safe. There was a balanced perspective now.

"Are you fine?"

She looked up at the German cyborg and nodded. "I'm fine, Albert. It hurts to think of the life I could've had."

"Who said you're guaranteed anything in life?" Jet asked, with his raspy voice, not full of recrimination, but a caring truth. Her mind went back to the night after her parents were killed in the train accident.

She tearfully told Jean-Paul how unfair it was. He hugged her close, tears in his eyes, he agreed. He told her there would be a lot of unfair things in life, but it should never stop her from trying to be the best person she could be. He told her she needed to always honor the person her parents wanted her to become.

Jet gave her a wary look, but he was visibly taken off guard at the smile she couldn't repress. "You are nothing like Jean-Paul, except in your common sense and kind heart. Thank you."

Jet looked utterly confused. She said, "You and Albert go and bring her to that cafe. All the others would recognize me. I'll wait."

"After we finish with her, we'll go get our things out of the train-station. We'll need our weapons and ray guns," Albert said.

Albert and Jet then took off for the large entrance. She took a deep breath and one final, fond gaze at the building. She turned with a little lighter heart and went to the nearby cafe. She ordered four coffees and waited. It wasn't long before Albert and Jet came walking across the street with Natalie jogging in front of them, looking the picture of agony.

"Oh Frances! It's you!"

Frances got up from her seat and embraced the thin girl in forgiveness and warmth. Frances parted and looked at the girl's freckled face, now tear-stained.

"How have you been, Natalie?"

"Fine... but how about you? You look... your face is the same, but... something about your eyes makes you look so much older. Are you sure you're fine?"

"Please, sit down," Frances said warmly. She sat across from Frances and Jet and Albert sat at Frances's sides. Jet fiddled with sweetening and lightening his coffee while Albert lit a cigarette; Frances didn't miss the suspicious looks Natalie shot her two male companions, but she couldn't deal with that now.

"So where have you been? Jean-Paul..."

"That's why I've come Natalie. To find Jean-Paul. When is the last time you've seen him?"

"Are you still being pursued?"

Frances was tempted to lie, but instead she said, "Yes. That's why it's important. Please tell us everything you know."

Again, she gave Jet and Albert mistrustful glances just as Albert offered a cigarette to Jet, which he took and lit. Natalie looked resigned as she sighed and said, "I saw him almost four months ago."

Frances gasped and grabbed Natalie's wrists, coffee cup rattling as her hands shot across the table. "No! That means he came here not but a few week after we..."

"Frannie!" Jet snapped. She gave him a hostile look.

"Why hide it? Natalie, we were at our summer home where Jean-Paul was hiding little over three months ago. That means we weren't very far behind. We came here to Paris to find him, but... we fell into a trap and were kidnapped again. We just escaped again. I need to find him. Don't you see? These twisted, sick people could hurt him if we don't catch up?"

"Then do you think it's wise to get close to him again? If these men are dangerous and looking for you, then how is it wise to make contact with Jean-Paul?"

"We can protect him," Frances insisted.

"Besides, you owe her," Jet snapped, his voice cracking uncomfortably in Frances's ear. Natalie jerked her hands from Frances's and hid them under the table, now she blushed and averted her eyes.

"You do owe this to me because, I love him and it wouldn't be right for you to keep me from my own brother," Frances said.

"Okay... he went to West Berlin. He heard of a chance to help people escaping from the East, and he said he thought that... maybe... he could find you by making some connections with the Communist. As far as I know, he's still there. I heard from him just last month. He calls me the first of every month to see if you've come back."

Frances's eyes grew watery; she was so close. Just mere meters and minutes away. "It's still five days. I can't wait that long. Do you know where we can find him?"

"Yes. I have an address, but you must be careful. If he gets caught, he could go to jail."

"If he gets caught without us protecting him, he could die," Frances said desperately. Natalie bit her lip and nodded her acquiescence.

* * *

When they got back to the hotel, Doctor Kaminari was there in full argument with Doctor Gilmore. The black rook power source was being tugged back and forth between them. Kozumi was trying, in vain, to stop the struggle and cursing. All three tumbled backwards, knocking over the large glossy coffin in the middle of the room.

Frances watched in horror as Ivan's body went tumbling across the hotel room. Jet instantly fell to the floor, laughing like a demented crow, dropping the suitcases that held their uniforms and ray guns from three months before. Albert slammed the door and snarled, "What the hell do you three think you're doing! Get the hell up and act like you have some common sense. You want to bring attention to us!"

"Albert," Frances chided Albert's too harsh rebuke. She quickly walked over to Ivan, the three doctors now quiet.

"No, he's so right. I'm sorry about my behavior," Gilmore admitted.

"I'm not! That was a hoot," Jet said, catching his breath and finally standing up straight again.

Albert whirled on Jet and said, "You think it's funny? Get over there and help Frances. Now!"

Frances was amazed to see Jet's astonishment. He kept his mouth shut and came over to help Frances put Ivan back in the ghoulish case.

"Come on, Mr. Heinrich. Let me examine your arm," Kaminari finally said, motioning to one of the beds. Frances watched Albert from the corner of her eye; he flung off his jacket and tie. He also flung his shirt aside and flopped down on the bed, no regard about how people would see his mutilated body at the moment. It was a lurid gesture she wasn't prepared for.

She adverted her eyes and looked down at Ivan's placid face. She brushed his hair from his face and tried to figure out what was bothering Albert. It hit her like a bolt out of the blue: East Berlin.

* * *

Frances waited until after dinner to approach Albert. She slipped out onto the balcony where the man was smoking. She leaned on the railing and forced a bright smile towards him. He didn't turn his eyes to her, but kept them on sparkling Paris, stretched out before them against the balmy night.

Frances tuned out the myriad conversations and city noises below their feet; she laid her hand on his right. She was afraid he'd flinch, but instead he turned his metal hand around in hers and gingerly squeezed her fingers.

"You're not sure if you can face Berlin?" she asked.

"I have to. There is no choice."

"You know, if you and the doctors want to stay, Jet will accompany me. You wouldn't have to worry, because we'd have each other."

"If I don't go now, the pain and fear will cripple me forever. I won't be a man any more, if I can't face this. We'll all go together. Just like we always have." Frances could see a stubbornness in those eyes. There was a deep pain within Albert; it was something she found a kinship with him through the loss of her brother, the only family she had.

"You know, it never really strikes me until times like these..." Albert and Frances flinched and looked over their shoulders to Jet. He lofted a cigarette in way of an explanation for his presence. "...you really are another generation from us. You lived a lifetime. We were starting ours."

"Yes, that's one of the reasons I've felt that we haven't seen eye-to-eye," Albert agreed as Jet lit his cigarette.

Jet shrugged and flung his hand towards Frances and Albert, his face somber and brandy-eyes firm. "Anyway, I want to tell you it's your choice. If you aren't ready yet, don't go. We could be facing the Black Ghost, and I don't need you distracted. I'm a big boy and can take care of Frannie just fine. After all, you didn't force me to go kiss-and-make-up with my folks, so I wouldn't ask you to go lay flowers at her grave. There ain't nothing the four of us can't work around after what we've been through."

Albert nodded, looking a little shamefaced. "I'm sorry about this afternoon. I am ready to face Berlin. This is my life now, with just us cyborgs. I won't put either of you in jeopardy. You do have my word on that."

Jet smiled and puffed on his cigarette. "Good enough for me."

The New Yorker thrust out his hand. Albert slowly shook it with his metallic hand. Frances felt a wave of relief and felt a profound sense of gratitude and admiration towards Albert for his strength. He was the model of a survivor for her.

* * *

They were on the train to West Berlin, this time in different rolls. Frances played the part of Gilmore's too young wife. Gilmore seemed just as jittery playing a husband as Jet. The good part was that it distracted the passengers on the train so much that they couldn't pay attention to Albert, the grieving uncle returning his nephew's body to native soil.

Nor did the passengers pay attention to the Italian doctor marching in the boxcars with his assistant. Jet's natural bent for Italian, and his knowledge of aviation, helped make the association seem natural and boring to casual observers.

Kozumi, dressed in traditional Japanese clothes caused a stir. Everyone seemed interested in why he was visiting. He polite explained he was going to teach at a small university.

The trip was awkward, but successful. They arrived in West Berlin in the noon hour on an overcast day. They gathered at a biergarten close by. Jet didn't miss how tense everyone, especially Albert, was. Jet smirked at his new ability to read a lot of the menu on the table.

"So now what?" Jet asked.

"We go find the address Jean-Paul gave Natalie. Carefully," Albert said. "I know where this is. We can walk." Albert then turned to the three scientists. "We'll go it alone, while you take Ivan and get us a place to stay. The economy is very depressed, so it should be easy to rent a whole house for very little money. That'll give us some privacy."

"Excellent. We'll take care of it," Gilmore said. With that, Albert stood and waved Frances and Jet to come with him. Jet looked over, Frances was nervous. He hoped she wouldn't be let down again.

After walking several blocks in silence, Jet worked up the courage to ask something he noticed. "Hey, Al, is everything this run down. I mean..."

Albert cast a harsh look over his shoulder. "This city is torn apart. It's never recovered."

Jet could tell Albert didn't want to elaborate. He glanced over to a discarded sign that had 'Now leaving American zone' in German, English, and another language he didn't know. Concrete rubble lined the sidewalks, and the buildings seemed in disrepair.

Jet snapped out of his musings on how hard Albert had it growing up in a war-torn country when they turned to walk up stairs to an apartment building. They walked in and found the third door on the left. Frances pounded on the door before they had a chance to talk it out.

A middle-aged woman answered the door, her brown hair piled high on her head. She gave them a questioning look and asked, "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for my brother. Jean-Paul Arnoul. I believe..."

The woman's face lit up. "You must be Frances. He thought you might find this place. Come in."

* * *

"So you see, he left just a week ago," the woman named Claudia said, serving Frances and Albert tea.

Jet took out a cigarette and asked in German, "And he didn't say where he was going?"

"He said the situation could put me in danger because there were some very evil men following his sister and her companions. There were two men in dark suits that kept watching our apartment. I thought..." she nodded at Albert, "...they were the Stasi. Over here, in the West, we're suppose to be safe from them."

"Jean-Paul must have know they weren't Stasi," Albert answered.

"Stasi?" Jet asked, wondering why the woman and Albert were so dour at the word.

Albert glanced over at him and explained, "State police from the East side. They're nothing but thugs."

Jet didn't miss the catch in Albert's voice or the tension in his trembling shoulders. Jet was surprised. He'd never once seen Albert shake; Albert was always confident and steady as a rock.

"So.. how did you meet my brother?" Frances's question yanked Jet's attention back to the lady.

"My son was trapped over in the East. Jean-Paul heard about my plight, and he was brave enough to go over there and help free him. After that, we set up a network to help reunite families. He's been so brave. He said that being parted from you was what inspired him to help all these German families."

Jet thought Frances was going to tear up and get all emotional, but he was pleasantly surprised to see her calmly smile and sip her tea.

Claudia continued, "He left when those men came around and refused to tell me where he was going. I'm so sorry I can't help you find him, I really wish I could."

"I thank you for your help. I also thank you that you told me a little bit about his life. It helps me have some hope. At least, I do know he's alive. And that, after what I just went through, it means the world to me. I'll take what good news I can get and look forward to the future."

"Thanks, Frau Schafer. We have to be leaving Berlin since those men showed up," Albert said, bolting to his feet.

"But, Herr Heinrich..." she said, standing slowly in shock. "You really should stay put for a while. Those men disappeared after Jean-Paul left. My guess is that they pursued him."

The door suddenly opened. Jet watched Albert swirl around and drop the porcelain tea cup, shattering it on the wood floor. Jet glanced to see an older teenage boy in the doorway. The boy glanced around at the cyborgs suspiciously, then his face brightened.

"You must be, Mademoiselle Arnoul!"

"Yes, Florin," Claudia answered. "Unfortunately, she came a week too late."

The teenager looked a little saddened and then shook his head. "Mother, there is a new chance coming up. Udo just told me a whole family needs to escape within two days. The father was a chemist and he's under observation by the Stasi."

"Without Jean-Paul, I don't know who could go," she said, shaking her head.

"I'll go! I'm not going to..."

"No! You're too young!" Jet flinched back at the mother's insistent, loud voice, but also the fierce protection for her son. It was so unashamed and freely given. It created an emptiness deep in his stomach.

"Listen... Udo wants to hold a meeting here, tonight. I'm going to go under the Wall and get them out," Florin insisted.

"If you get caught, you'll be shot by the Stasi! I can't risk loosing you again," Claudia declared, tears steaming down her face. Floin's face softened.

"Please... Understand."

"We'll leave," Albert snapped, grabbing Frances's wrist and Jet's elbow. He yanked them to the door, but Florin jumped into Albert's path.

"Wait! Jean-Paul said that something happened to you three. He didn't say what, just that you were very strong now. You could help them. You're German! You know what a terrible blight that wall is to our country. Come and join our group. Jean-Paul said you..."

"It's beyond our control," Albert answered darkly in a low voice that made Jet quiver slightly. He yanked Frances and Jet with him, leaving a appalled Florin in his wake.

Jet could hear Florin shout out, "Eight o'clock! Don't be late!"

To be continued.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25:

Frances was surprised Jet didn't pester Albert. The New Yorker kept to himself all day, playing solitaire and and smoking. He didn't even eat the lunch Gilmore had thrown together.

Frances walked around the small, empty house the doctors had rented and avoided Jet. She knew he was going to leave and go to Florin's meeting tonight, regardless of what anyone said. She wouldn't have stopped him, anyway, because she planned on going with him.

Albert was in the same solitary, gloom, but Frances knew he wouldn't go tonight. She admitted he had legitimate reasons. Still, it didn't seem like Albert to avoid those in need. All day, she kept pondering what it was like being in love and being in a marriage for almost seven years. She couldn't guess what it was like losing a spouse. That's why she made an allowance for Albert seeming disinterest in Florin's risky plans.

Finally, Kaminari called for everyone to gather for dinner. Jet put on his jacket as he walked into the kitchen. Albert looked over and shook his head. Frances braced herself for a violent argument.

"I ain't forcing ya', but come with me," was all the redhead said, gently, eyes shifting between her and Albert.

"I will, Jet," Frances answered quickly, but Albert grabbed her elbow and shook his head.

"Don't go, Frances. It's too dangerous. Your brother wouldn't approve." She didn't miss the dirty look he shot Jet before he said, "Jean-Paul is expecting us to take care of you."

She scowled at Albert and jerked away from his grasp. "Don't presume to use guilt over my brother to manipulate me. Or Jet, for that matter. That's too cold, even for you."

She didn't like how Albert's face turned from shock to anger. He had the good sense to finally looked embarrassed; he lowered his face to his crossed arms.

"It's her choice, Al."

Albert jerked his face upwards towards Jet. "And if she gets hurt, it'll be your fault."

Jet's eyes narrowed. Frances could have sworn he was going to, and she knew the old Jet would have, cuss or make a nasty comment. Instead, he squared his shoulders and waved Frances to leave with him. She did, without casting a look over her shoulder.

* * *

Frances wanted to talk, but Jet's stony expression, and the fact that he was silent, didn't encourage conversation. They got to the apartment a little before eight. Frances knocked on the door and Frau Schafer let them in. There were three other people there. Florin and two older men, who were wary construction workers. Frances could smell all the tell-tale signs.

"I'm glad you two came. I'm surprised Herr Heinrich didn't come. Doesn't he know about how the Wall destroys families?" Florin snapped.

Jet glared down at the younger teen and shook his head. "He knows all too well... better than anyone should. And... I'm not going to hear him criticized for it," he said, voice low and craggy, but firm. "It's his own business and don't pry into it. You've got us."

Florin nodded. "Alright. This is Udo and Axel."

Frances nodded to the men who stared at them. They nodded back, still tense. Frances heard a slight, clicking beat coming down the hallway. Joy hit Frances as she shook Jet's arm and smiled up at him. He gave her baffled look, so she said, "It's Albert."

A knock at the door a moment later made everyone else jerk. Frau Schafer opened the door with trepidation. Albert stepped in and nodded to Jet and Frances. She looked up at Jet and was pleased to see a bright smile. She didn't miss the admiration and pride there.

"I hope I'm not too late," Albert said. He wore a chagrined, lopsided smile, but there was a strength in those eyes. The Albert she knew, and depended on, was here.

"Thought you'd never get here," Jet answered, rolling his eyes and smirking.

* * *

She, Jet, Albert, and the man named Udo set out two hours after the meeting had taken place. It was now two in the morning, but she was feeling much too anxious to feel fatigued. She wanted to live up to her brother's ideals. That's what made her determined to help people get to freedom.

Udo had informed them a family of five was trying to escape East Berlin. The father was a chemist; he was desperate to get his children and wife away from the threat of death or prison by the Communists. Udo had come up with a ruse to distract the Stasi watching them.

He had planted dynamite in an abandoned building two blocks away. He had waited cautiously and set the explosion when people weren't around. The man was careful that it wouldn't hurt anyone, but it would certainly cause chaos. The ensuing mayhem let the three cyborgs slip into the apartment building without notice. Frances kept her ears trained for any approaching threat as they raced upstairs.

They halted at the fourth floor when they saw two Stasi by an apartment door. Frances heard the high pitched, metallic whine right before Jet disappeared. Not a second later, the two men crumpled and Jet reappeared by the door. He wore a self-satisfied expression as he knocked on the door.

The middle-aged, German chemist peaked out of the door. Frances could see fear in the man's eye. She could hear that the ruckus outside was dying down. "Quick!" she urged.

"We're here to get you out," Albert said.

"You're Udo's people?" The man opened the door slightly and Frances could see three children, one boy and two girls, all under twelve, and a trembling woman.

"Yes. Quick, before they get back here," Albert urged. The German cyborg lead the way down the hallway to the stairs. The family followed with Jet and Frances trailing behind.

Before they could charge down the stairs, a young man in a black uniform hit the landing. Frances could see surprise, fear, and then determination as he went to draw his gun. Albert moved fast, slamming his body against the young man. Frances's throat dried as she saw Albert right hand come up to the Stasi's temple; there was a stony look in his eyes.

Jet ran up to Albert and clenched his shoulder. "Come on, Albert. This ain't you."

Albert nodded and slowly lowered his hand. Frances watched Jet's shoulders relax, and she felt the same. Albert said, "Let's go. To the rendezvous point."

With that, they left the young Stasi on the landing and fled into the night. Albert led the way three blocks south. The group darted down an alleyway. Albert waved his hand at the sewer grate, and Jet helped him yank the bars from the ground. France turned at the startled gasps coming from the family of five. She put on a reassuring smile and said, "We already loosened it before we came."

"Frances, lead the way," Albert said. She could hear several adult, male footsteps coming their way. She went over to the open sewer and took Jet's hand. He lowered her into the noxious darkness. Her eyes easily adjusted to the darkness; everything appeared a grainy green. This was one upgrade she planned on putting to good use.

Jet dropped down beside her. They caught the children and had them hold hands. Then Albert helped the mother down, next the father. Finally, Albert dropped down with a dull thud.

"This way," Frances whispered, tugging the youngest little girl by the hand. Everyone else trailed behind her, closely. She found her way through the maze with her enhanced senses. It took her twenty minutes to lead them under the wall in total silence. She recalled the directions Udo had given her and led them to a passage to the right.

Frances start scanning the concrete ceiling and found the rendezvous point. There was a dim light above and directly ahead. She tugged the family with her quickly and was relieved to see the sewer grate was opened.

"We're here," France called out. Florin and Axle peered down in the dark, but their smiling faces weren't obscured from Frances's eyes. Jet stepped to her right and grabbed the smallest girl. He lifted her up to Florin, who gleefully pulled the child up.

Frances watched the sewer tunnels while the family was freed. She jerked her attention around when Jet made a leap upwards and pulled himself from the dark tunnel. Jet then held his hands down to her. She looked over to Albert; the man had a grave expression.

She almost spoke his name, but he cupped his hands together and knelt before she could confront him. She put her dainty foot in his hands and was boosted towards Jet. The American grabbed her hands and finished lifting her out.

She looked around at the family they had rescued as Jet helped Albert out of the sewer. There was something in their eyes she didn't like at all: mistrust.

Florin and Alex urged the family to follow them down the West Berlin alleyway they had reemerged in. Frances frowned at the suspicion directed at her, Jet, and Albert before the family was led away.

She turned towards her companions when Jet made a snort. "Weird. I didn't do this for a thank you, but... they didn't say a word. And what was with the drop dead looks they gave us?"

"They know we're not one of them," Albert answered numbly. He shook his head slightly and marched down the street towards their temporary home.

* * *

Jet peeked his head into the small room without furniture. Albert sat in a corner, knees drawn up, arms resting on them. The three doctors were sharing the master bedroom, and they'd started turning the basement into a lab where Ivan rested in a corner. Frances claimed the attic space, so that left Jet and Albert, as had been their luck since they were first captured by the Black Ghost, to share the one remaining room.

Jet looked around to see the man had been generous enough to make them each pallets on the floor to sleep on. He walked in and shut the door, then he continued rubbing his damp, scarlet hair with an old towel. As had been Jet's luck, he always seemed to be the last one in the shower line, no matter how hard he tried to beat the others. At least he hadn't had to compete with Ivan for extra helpings of food.

He had been dreading this moment after they arrived home from the rescue. Albert hadn't been acting predictable, which unnerved Jet unlike anything.

He went and flopped down on his side in front of Albert. "So, are you..."

"Fine? Yes."

Jet gave him a quirked eyebrow. Albert finally continued after a deep breath. "I didn't want to hurt that man, but I felt this incredible anger. It just came to the surface before I realized it."

"I know you well enough to know you weren't angry with that guy, and I know you really don't have it in you to hurt someone like him. You're angry at a situation you couldn't help. You're... you know... hurt... from losing... her."

"I could've helped it," Albert whispered, but sounding furious and full of passion. "The accident was my fault. I was driving. She'd still be living if I would have just moved to East Berlin with her. I pressured her because I wanted to raise children in a place where I could support a family. In the East, I couldn't make a decent living."

"We haven't had many choices after the Black Ghost, like I know you and her didn't have much choice. She took a risk because she wanted to be with you. It was worth it for her."

"My bad choice led to her death. I panicked. My bad choice also let us get caught by the Black Ghost again. I should have stopped us from trying to steal from them. The whole thing was a nightmare, and with what happened to..." Jet shivered at Albert's guilt ridden eyes jerking away. Jet's hand almost flew up to his throat, but he stopped it. "Being in West Berlin makes me relive all the reckless, selfish, prideful decisions I've made. Tonight made me realize that you were right. I want to stay here. I need to atone for all those bad decision I've made."

Jet was stunned at Albert's confession. Something was changing, shifting, between them if Albert was willing to share that much. Jet's natural urge to blow off Albert's blame came under check. He bit his bottom lip and remembered his three months of silence. There were gains to be had with quietness. Jet reminded himself Albert revealed a lot more when listened to.

Jet nodded and rethought his words and his tendency towards negativity. "Tonight, you did help someone else get that dream that she..." Jet's face went hot realizing he was disrespecting Albert's former life. "I mean that... Hilda... and you had together. It's a good thing. I want to stay here too. This seems like we can do some good, in spite of what happened to us." Jet shrugged and smirked. "Besides, I think we should wait here for Jean-Paul to show up."

"We won't be going to New York any time soon. That Wall is solid."

Jet gave a snicker. "Ya' well... I'm more stubborn than a pile a bricks. You know, my life has been a lot different than I thought it would... to confess, I never really thought about it before... all this shit. I just blew with the wind. Now, here I am, breaking the law for good... in Europe of all places. Who would have thought. Not my folks."

Albert gave a somber attempt at a smirk. "I never pictured life like this either. I guess we're all trying to figure it out." Albert took another deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose with in index and thumb. Now, the stable expression Jet knew was back. "It was bitter-sweet to watch them walk away. It also brought up another kind of quandary. About us and our humanity."

Jet gave him a baffled look, but held his tongue. He instinctively knew Albert needed time to sort it out. There wasn't anything Jet could do to drag it out of the man before it was time. Besides, Jet knew Albert had just revealed more than he was comfortable with. Jet contented himself and stretched his arms upward.

Albert stood, walked over to a pile of blankets on the floor and dropped on them. Jet sighed and crawled over to his pallet. He quickly burrowed under blankets, but he couldn't drop off to sleep. His mind bounced, comparing his life before the Black Ghost to his current situation.

* * *

_:Where have they gone!:_

Erika picked up her husband's furious thoughts before he spoke them out loud. She opened her eyes and sat up on their couch.

"Nothing, my darling. He's still in a deep coma. Until he surfaces, I have no hope of finding him. He's clever enough to force himself to sleep for long time, hoping we'll give up," she answered before he opened his mouth. He nodded, all too used to his wife and child replying to his unspoken words. He handed her strong black tea.

"Lord Scar wants us to divert our attention... temporarily," he said, hoping to reassure Erika. She frowned, and he knew she wouldn't like what would come next. "You need to go to Russia. There are rumors of spies around the space program. You're to help leak some to the Americans, but not everything. Lord Scar wants someone to secretly balance the tension. Neither Russia nor America can have the upper hand right now. The world's countries must remain on the verge of war."

"I understand," she said, looking very disappointed. "I'll keep searching for Ivan. In the meanwhile, I'll take Ann with me. It'll be a good education for her."

"Good. Let me know when Ivan wakes up. We'll get him back. In the meanwhile, I'll be working on my AI project. Gaia and Uranus have taken an interest and offered to help."

"Careful, darling," she said, before sipping her tea. "They have some self interest in helping you."

"Yes, I know, but I need them for now. They've done a fair bit of work on their blank slate theory. Besides..." He flashed his wife a devious smirk. "You're not the only one good at spying, my dear."

* * *

"No, no, no. We're safe. Gamo's wife is being shipped off to Russia. He'll never figure out everything we're up to," Gaia whispered in hasty Greek as they walked down the hallway past several lab doors. "Besides, we need him to help complete our work with the children. We need to mold them, make them really believe they are Olympians. Gamo can help us with that. After the Double Zero Cyborg rebellion, he's more convinced than ever we were right."

"We can't move forward without changing them. They must believe they are brother and sister, and they really are Zeus's children. They must never have access to their memories again," Uranus acknowledge. "Until we finish picking Gamo's brain, we need to put the children on ice. Damn! Why did she leave? I gave her everything, virtual immortality!"

"003? She's an ingrate like her three Double Zero brothers. I told you we need to eliminate their memories. You could have shaped her into anything you wanted. But... forget her, for now. Focus on what we have in front of us. When we perfect our children, we can get the Double Zero Cyborgs back."

"Agreed. There is plenty of space next to the failed assassins, and no one will look in that deep dark tomb," Uranus said, glumly. "I'll go put them to sleep, while you make a schedule with Gamo. Keep in mind, one day, I do want her back."

"I know. By the way, a tip was given by our German agents."

Uranus nodded and scowled. "The one about her brother? If they can at least catch him, then we can question him and find her."

"You were a fool my friend. You knew the rules and you broke them: no women, and no close family. You broke them both all for a lovely face," Gaia said, shaking his head.

"Yes, but my mistake on grabbing someone with a close family could work in our favor. If not, we can use him for bait."

A wicked smile spread over Gaia's face. "Or as test material. No matter, my friend. You'll have your ballerina back one day. Then, hopefully, with Gamo's help, you can shape her into your perfect doll. Oh... are you meeting with our Japanese electronics connection?"

"Yes, but I contacted him discreetly. He doesn't want the Gamos to know we are forging a deal. It's in our best interest to do this secretly, because his sister is good friends with Erika. It turns out Mrs. Gamo has been doing a fair bit of assassinations for her on the side, including her husband, that old Hondo Kitagawa fool. Either that Hitomi Kitagawa or the Gamos would sell us out to Lord Scar."

"You don't say. That Erika... to kill with a thought... that is a frightening thought. We'll avoid the Gamos and get what we can from Fyodor. Listen... I've been thinking too... when we get the Double Zero Cyborgs back, we need to destroy 001's mind or find a way to harness him," Gaia said in hushed tones, rationally afraid of Erika Gamo.

"I say we think about modeling a cyborg after him. We'll talk more tonight."

* * *

"Wow. This is exhausting! But at least our total is up to fifteen people sprung from East Berlin," Jet said, flopping down on the living-room floor. He looked up in time to see Albert and Frances sit next to him. They still could manage enough money for proper furniture. "And not a friggin' dime. We're dead broke, Albert."

"I know," he snapped at Jet and tugged the hat off his head.

"I wish you three would lay low," Gilmore said, walking in from the kitchen.

"Hey, where are the other two codgers?" Jet asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

"The store. Kozumi still has some money, but we need to find a way to support ourselves. He and Kaminari plan on leaving next week."

"You'd think there was a way to make money here," Jet said. "We just aren't being creative enough."

"It's been three weeks. I need to look for work if we plan on staying longer," Albert said, shooting Jet a dirty look. "Nothing that will bring attention to us."

"Me? Stand out?" Jet teased. "I guess I'll pound the pavement too."

"No, you still have that god awful American accent that will give us away. I can find work without raising suspicions."

"And my German is perfect! I have no accent," Jet protested, exaggerating his vowels and smiling as Albert cringed.

"Well, I'll look for something too," Frances said. "I won't stand out as much. Frau Schafer said her cousin owns a bookstore and might have an opening."

"Good idea," Albert said.

"So I get to sit at home and let you two bring me money?" Jet began to chuckle.

"You better get familiar with mopping and cooking," Frances said. Jet clamped his mouth shut and glared.

"Yes, you'll make us a great housewife," Albert teased. Jet then hopped to his feet in mock anger; he was secretly relieved Albert cracked a joke. It was the first one in three weeks; it was a good sign. Jet considered it a good sign the man wanted to start working again, too.

"I don't like either of you," he declared.

"I could use some help in the kitchen getting the dishes clean. No time like the present," Gilmore said, tugging Jet by the elbow into the small kitchen. His face burned hot when he heard Frances and Albert's laughter.

* * *

Takuma Shimamura's frown would seem mild, almost bland, to any observer except another Shimamura relation. His displeasure was extreme. He stepped into the small, olive tent and looked around at his filthy surroundings. He was right to request his sister stay in Tokyo with the boys. This place would repulse her behind that icy mask she wore.

Not even her icy mask would remain after the news he'd just received. One man, who was one of his deceased brother-in-law's men, knelt on the dirt floor. Two of his sister's handpicked men stood by the shivering man's shoulders, guns drawn. Hondo never did have the knack of picking men for remorseless, blind loyalty like Hitomi did.

"My sister wanted to poison you, but I though you would be loyal to our cause," Takuma said, crossing his arms while gazing down at the man. "You know, she had every other man Hondo hired killed."

"I know! I am loyal, Shimamura-san, please... please! We were taken by surprise. Your sister was wrong about my loyalty..."

Takuma slapped the man's face at the moment of insult. "My sister's has strong instincts and is ruthless enough to carry them out. She's never wrong. Now tell me what happened to our rifles."

"A blond Frenchman! He hijacked the airplane and set the whole shipment on fire... with your plane. The fault was mine, Shimamura-san," the man said, bowing his forehead, almost touching his forehead to Takuma's shoes.

"What was the name of this Frenchman in Korea?"

"Arnoul."

"Arnoul? And he's stopping my guns?"

"Yes, sir. This was his third raid. He's stopping guns getting to the North and South."

"I see." Takuma nodded to the man standing on the right and said. "Send all of his fingers to his widow."

With that, Takuma turned away from the blubbering man and left the tent as sobs gave way to screaming. He marched to the helicopter waiting on him and hopped in. The pilot took off and they headed towards Seoul.

When he landed, he saw the Greek scientists he had made his side trip for. His sister wasn't expecting him for a whole day, so he was still safe from suspicion. Still, she was watching his son, and he knew she had no pity for anyone who crossed her.

He slid out of the helicopter and gave a slight wave of greeting. Doctor Gregory Uranus waved back and walked over. They walked over to a bench in front of an empty hanger, the noise of the helicopter in background.

"Thank you, in advance, for the shipment out of Hong Kong. I checked it out on my way up here."

"You didn't come all this way, risking the Black Ghost's notice, for nothing. Make your request quickly."

"We need to double our order next year. We are interested in your new research, as well. We're willing to perform the tests and give you the feedback." Uranus slid a black briefcase across the bench. "This is an advance payment."

"I'll get in touch by next week and let you know how the research is going. You should be able to make a better acceleration device than the prototype."

"Excellent, thank you for your assistance."

Takuma said, "Oh one personal bit of research. Could you contact someone to do an investigation? It would seem Shimamura interests in Korea are under attack by a loner Frenchman."

"Of course. What's the name?"

"Arnoul," Takuma said, getting surprised at Uranus's wide eyes and sudden trembling.

"Korea? We've been hunting a man by the name of Arnoul. It is urgent we find this man!"

"Really? Why is he important?"

"He could be the brother of one of the Double Zero Cyborgs."

Takuma smiled. "Then it would seem it's of the utmost importance to the Merchants of Death and the Black Ghost. I'll contact my sister and we'll arrange for some agents to discreetly capture him."

To be continued.


	26. Chapter 26

_Author's Note: I want to apologize for walking away from writing in the middle of a story. (Actually, three of them) There were a lot of personal things going on, including a paid writing gig. Kids' workbook, but it's a start! I hope you forgive me and will pick this up again. I've got time to be more faithful now. Thanks to all my loyal readers._

_Special Note: I so admire M*A*S*H in so many ways. That show helped me learn to write comedy in so many ways. That's what I pictured for this chapter. _

_This story is going to heat up again because I have a real need to finish it as soon as I can. Please pick it back up and keep with me. Love to all you Cyborg fans out there!_

Chapter 26:

"You come back like this? You're going to put us in an early grave, young man," Gilmore snapped, helping Jet sit on the makeshift gurney in the basement of the cyborgs' hideout.

"Don't flip your wig, daddy-o! That makes thirty-eight people we've rescued in four months. If I get a little banged up... ow... that does smart like a mother..." Jet groused sharply, as Gilmore checked out Jet's dislocated shoulder. The Jewish scientist gave an irritated snort and wrenched Jet's shoulder back into place. Jet screamed, causing Frances and Albert to flinch.

Jet doubled over and started moving his arm slowly. Albert walked up and gave a chuckle. "Next time, watch where you're flying."

"Hey... I had to watch all those bullets from those damn Stazzi bastards," Jet said, flashing Albert a crafty smile. "Anyway... you owe me a drink. I won the bet."

"Children," Frances declared, shaking her head before going back upstairs.

"Aw, you're just sore I was right," Jet called after the French girl in her own language. "Dames," he whispered to Albert.

"Keep it up and she'll come back here and choke you," Albert said, giving Jet a light smack on his uninjured shoulder. "I think I better take you out for a drink before you do get into trouble. By the way, how did you come up with that harebrained scheme?"

"Two months ago..." Jet slid off the table and accepted a cigarette from Albert.

Gilmore threw Jet's shirt at him and interrupted, "Next time, duck." With that, the man swirled around and marched up the stairs, too. Jet tugged the black shirt on, stiffly.

"I remembered that one story you told me," Jet said, picking his explanation back up.

"I've told you a lot of stories over the last several months," Albert said. Jet felt his face get slightly hot as he followed Albert upstairs. It was true. Since May, their shared room had filled with hundreds of books, thanks to Frances' part-time job. Albert had withdrawn into books after that first mission to East Berlin, so Jet had devised a plan in hopes of striking up a conversation.

Albert used to read constantly, when they weren't on a mission to East Berlin or he wasn't at his part-time construction job. Jet had, at first, pestered Albert about the content of the books as he was reading them, which had aggravated Albert and caused more than one argument. Albert finally tossed a book at Jet one night and snapped, "I'm not your Scheherazade."

Jet asked him what that was; Albert sighed and urged Jet to read the book he had thrown at the American. It was a copy of _The Arabian Nights_. The New Yorker started reading the book and found himself unable to put it down; he soon discovered Scheherazade was a 'who,' not a 'what.' After that, Albert would vacillate between telling Jet stories and making him read on his own.

"It was that poem about those idiot Trojans."

"_Aeneid_," Albert supplied.

"Figured Stazzis wouldn't be much smarter when I saw a bunch of them get smashed a couple of weeks ago and steal all that shit from the bakery. All we had to do was get them to look at the nice shiny car after getting plastered at the bar. Bam-o!"

"Well... Frances and I didn't think they'd be that stupid. Almost makes me ashamed to be German," Albert teased when they got to the kitchen. He grabbed their jackets and handed Jet his. "I do owe you a drink for pulling that off."

"Yeah! And Frannie owes me a nice chicken dinner I intend on collecting tomorrow night."

"Come on, I'm thirsty, and I'm not waiting for Oktoberfest."

"What's that?" Jet asked, following Albert out of their home.

"I'll take you to Munich next week and introduce you to some real German culture."

"Frannie is planning something for your birthday," Jet whisper after they went down the block towards a beer hall. Albert groaned and shook his head. "Aw come on... you'll be what... eight-three?"

Albert lightly smacked Jet's sore shoulder and said, "Watch it, junior. I'll out drink you tonight."

"Bull! And that hurt," Jet exaggerated. They entered the beer hall, got their drinks, and withdrew to a small, secluded table in the back. They sipped and chatted casually for a while. Eventually, there was a lull in their conversation.

Jet laid his chin on the table, enjoying the light buzz when Albert asked, "So, you never take Frances out. Why?"

Jet jerked his head up, baffled. A few moments later, Albert's implication hit him. He shook his head and smiled, "Are you asking why I've never asked her out on a date?" Albert nodded to the question. "She's really cute, but I don't think we'd mix real well. Why are you asking, anyway?"

"I just wondered how you felt towards her. I guess I wanted to urge you to ask her out if you had feelings towards her." Albert's face turned somber as he fiddled with his stein. "I let time get away. I just would hate to see the same thing happen if you had feelings towards her."

"She's a really good friend and that's all. Why are you assuming I have some sort of thing for Frannie all of the sudden?" Jet snapped suddenly, aggravated his face was flushing.

"Lately, I've remembered being eighteen..."

"I'm twenty now."

"Twenty... and I just assumed you would want to find someone you were compatible with."

"Compatible? That sounds boring. But listen, I have plenty on my mind without worrying about dames. I never really went around all that much with them before the Black Ghost, anyway. Also, it doesn't help with what the Black Ghost did to us. Makes us outsiders..." Jet's eyes darted around, then he leaned close to Albert and whispered, "If you know what I mean."

"Okay, okay, no need to get all defensive. I just didn't want to see you waste all your time drinking beer with an old man when there is a beautiful, young woman at home."

Jet's eyes narrowed as he examined Albert's chagrined expression. An inkling of an uncomfortable notion came to him. What if Albert was feeling him out to see if the field was clear to ask Frances out?

"So... why are you wasting all your time with me rather than asking Frances out?" Jet blurted, and then Albert's unpleasant expression hit him about the thoughtless statement. "I mean... later when you've... you're kind of... feeling better. I mean, you two seem to have a lot in common... and..."

Albert suddenly gave him a lop-sided smile. "Stop babbling. You're giving me a headache. I feel the same way about Frances that you do. Even if I wasn't still thinking of Hilda, she wouldn't pique my interest."

"Really? I imagined Hilda was just like Frances. A classy girl, who always was ladylike no matter what. She was always proper and..."

Albert burst out laughing unlike Jet had ever seen. It was a deep belly-laugh, full of mirth; it infected Jet, and he started snickering without knowing why.

"My Hilda had a tempter and was the most stubborn woman I had ever met. When she argued, she was very... unladylike. She was tenacious when she'd found a just cause and wouldn't relent."

"Thought you'd be driven crazy by someone that likes to argue."

"Part of the appeal is the chase," Albert said with an ambiguous smirk. "She was brave, dauntless, and cheeky, but when she let herself trust me, it made me feel respected."

After several, uneasy, silent seconds, Jet decided to change the subject. "You mentioned moving on this morning?"

"Yeah. No new leads have come up with Jean-Paul, so Frances wants to check out that rumor about Korea. Plus, Frau Schafer said our ways into the East are drying up. It's getting harder for us to sneak in and break people out. Things have kind of calmed down now, too. Not as many people want to risk it."

"I know," Jet acknowledged placidly. He felt a little sick to his stomach, so he whipped up some hostility in his tone to breach his real concern. "Also, the three of us are getting too well known by the Stazzi. It won't be long before those men in black suits show up, and..."

Albert's eyes snapped up, meeting his. "We won't ever be going back." Jet shivered at Albert's dead-calm. There was something the man wasn't revealing to him. Albert had already planned something ugly if the Black Ghost came around again; Jet had no idea what it was. Albert took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, it's time to move on. Anyway, Kaminari and Kozumi are in Sicily. The safe house they're working on is almost compete."

"Are you thinking about leaving Ivan there?"

"Yes. He'd be in danger traveling like he is. That coma is something Gilmore still hasn't figured out. I think he's being too stubborn trying to figure it out on his own." Albert shook his head ruefully and forced a grin. "Besides, it'll give him something to do while we look for Jean-Paul."

"Cool, he can be such a drag," Jet said, covering worry over Ivan with his irritation at the know-it-all doctor.

"Gilmore will be targeted by Black Ghost, too, so he's better off at a safe location. Keep in mind, you need him handy with as reckless as you are."

"Fine," Jet mumbled, before draining his second mug. He stretched his arms to the ceiling and stifled a yawn. "You want to get back?"

Albert shook his head. "Not really. I don't know when I'll get a chance to relax and enjoy Germany again. Besides, for once, I'm actually enjoying your company. You haven't been an ass and tried to pick a fight with me... so far."

Jet smiled and shook his head. "That means I'm going to have to work harder."

"Breaking people out of East Berlin has kept us in beer money, if nothing else. I don't think I could afford your thirst, otherwise."

"I tell you, you should let me roll a few Stazzi. Then we'd have more money than what people have been pushing on us in gratitude. And we wouldn't have to live off of the doctors and your part-time jobs."

"I thought you said you were reformed from a life of crime?"

"Well, it did have it's appeal. We had tons of money then. We're broke all the time, now."

"I know, but I'm not going to let us fall into stealing from the Merchants of Death again. It's too dangerous," Albert said. Jet could see the hint of mistrust in Albert's eyes. "I know it's not about the money with you. You just want a chance at revenge again."

Jet glared and slammed his fist on the table. "As if you don't, either. At least I admit it. Besides, they need to be stopped."

Albert nodded, grimly. "Yes, but not now. The timing is wrong. I promise, we'll get our chance."

"Well, somebody has to stop them. I want that somebody to be me."

"It'll be all of us, together. Listen, I know I'm telling you something against your nature, but put it aside for now. We'll find the right time and place."

Jet crossed his arms as a third round of beer was served. "I hate waiting. It drives me nuts."

"I know you don't like to be patient, but please try."

Jet flinched back and scrutinized Albert. "Did you just ask me something nicely, rather than boss me around?"

"I figured I'd try a little honey, rather than vinegar, to see if your hearing problem would go away." Albert was now wearing that smug expression Jet used to despise so much, but now it elicited something else altogether.

"I hear just fine. It's following orders I don't always dig," Jet snapped, leaning forward hoping Albert would stop with that superior, know-it-all, confident attitude if he showed a little aggression.

"It's good you know your faults," he bantered back smoothly.

"You don't want me to list yours, Al. We'll be here all night long."

"And here I am, buying beer. I thought that would at least keep your sourness down."

"Sour? Who's sour! You beat me any day of the..."

"Albert! Jet!"

Jet flinched and looked up to see Frances, pale as she leaned over their table. She looked harried and out of breath. Albert jumped up and held a chair out to her. She shook her head and flashed them a smile.

"My brother is in Korea. It's absolutely certain. He sent word to Frau Schafer, a letter, and that's where the stamp was from. He wanted to tell her to keep us safe, and here, if we showed up. But he could be in danger. There's a war going on there. Please, please, Albert, you have to get us there. We have to leave tonight. I want to find him."

Jet fought down his initial trepidation and glanced over to Albert. He felt validated seeing Albert's face had a harsh, yet concerned, frown.

* * *

"Gilmore! What are you doing here?" Kaminari asked, stepping aside as the man pushed a large, green trunk into the peaceful Sicilian villa.

"The three others decided to take off for Korea before I could do anything. They just up and left me in West Berlin. Told me to come here and check on you. I figured it was a good idea, though."

Kaminari rolled his eyes and snorted. "Anytime they think to dump you at my doorstep isn't a good idea."

Gilmore yanked a handkerchief from his jacket and mopped his sweaty brow. "I'll ignore that, because I figured you'd help me with a little project."

"Got my own!" Kaminari said, thinking of the robot shaping up in the basement laboratory.

"Put it on hold! Where is Kozumi, by the way?"

"Out back in the garden. He's growing some experimental plants with medicinal properties."

"Great! Let's get to work!" Gilmore said. He threw his tweed suit jack on a red velvet settee and started unlocking the trunk.

"What's going on here, you quack?" Kaminari shouted.

"We're going to concentrate on this!" Gilmore flipped the trunk's lid opened. Kaminari peered in and wasn't really surprised to see Cyborg 001 curled up in the bottom. "It's time we concentrated on waking him up. I've had some ideas."

* * *

"If we can get him, we can get more leverage with the Double Zero Cyborgs, and then, the other members of the Merchants of Death," Takuma said, picking up his suitcase. "Arnoul is the key."

"I lured them successfully once. They're going to be leery," Hitomi warned her brother as he turned to board an airplane. "Don't underestimate them. I'll call Erika tomor..."

"No, not yet. It's bad enough Doctor Uranus knows. He's being difficult to deal with. I had to make promises about bringing him 003 first if he would report what he knows to the Black Ghost," he said. "It could undercut our leverage if there's one rumor leaked to them. Keep your eyes on him."

Her lips twisted into a wry semblance of a smile. "If you don't catch them by the end of the month, I'll call Erika."

Takuma pressed his lips together tightly and nodded. She wasn't going to give him any room for failure. But then again, she never respected failure; rightly so, in his mind. He turned and got on the plane; three of Hitomi's hired goons were already waiting. Dressed in black suits, they'd surely stand out among the war-torn Korean landscape.

He dusted off his own camouflage jacket before sitting down. He exhaled slowly as the plane took off. Soon, they could leverage their electronic empire into real power and make the _Shimamura_ name feared around the world.

* * *

"Welcome, Mister Shimamura. It's an honor to meet you," the French Captain greeted Takuma, after leaving the large tent in the middle of a medical encampment. Takuma looked around at the dingy surrounding. The French army camp was a blur of mud, drab olive, and galvanized metal. It was one of many that littered the South Korean landscape at this time. Each encampment had a different nationality, but they always seemed the same: dirty and dilapidated.

"The honor is all mine, Captain Dupont. Our conversation over the phone gives me great hope for my mission," Takuma said, plastering fake warmth across his face, enough to put his sister to shame. His story to Captain Dupont was as fake as his smile. It'd taken him several days to find his real target, but easy enough when the pilot was bold and as heroic as Jean-Paul Arnoul.

"Ah... yes... I believe we can fill your request. Especially, for such a good cause."

"Yes. The Americans are making inroads. The radar jammer my company developed should increase their effectiveness, and it will save many soldiers' lives."

"Yes! And that is a worthy cause."

Takuma turned slightly and waved his sister's goons to follow when Captain Dupont lead them towards his office, which was actually a small tent on the edge of the camp. "My men already put the equipment at the landing pad. We're ready to go."

"Usually, it is a hardship to release one of my pilots for so long. You understand, they fly the wounded away from harm and time is of the essence. You'll have the Lieutenant back soon?"

"Yes, sir. I'll release him after our task is done," Takuma promised.

"By the way," Captain Dupont said, slowing his pace slightly. "You specifically requested Arnoul?"

"Oh yes. My sister told me about his work doing a flying show when she visited France once. She was very impressed."

"Oh... isn't she Hitomi Kitagawa?"

"You've heard of her? She'll be very flattered."

"I'm a huge admirer of hers. I saw her last film when I was on leave in Tokyo. If I can be so bold, she's a very lovely woman. Very charitable, too, from what I understand."

"Thank you so much," Takuma said, not surprised at the compliments lavished on Hitomi. She took great pains to maintain her image. This war was spreading her name to an international community. That image would benefit his company's image in the long run.

"Arnoul is a great pilot. He'll make sure you get there safely." The captain opened the door to his stuffy office, where a tall, blond man leaned against a filing cabinet. He was dressed in a leather jacket and khaki clothing. He straightened up quickly and gave Takuma a friendly grin.

"Lieutenant Arnoul, this is Mister Shimamura. He's the gentleman who requested you fly him to an American unit to the north of here. Uijongbu, towards the front line."

"It'll be my pleasure, sir," Jean-Paul Arnoul answered with an enthusiastic nod.

"And make sure he gets back safely," Dupont said.

"When would you like to leave, sir?" Arnoul asked Takuma.

"Right away," Takuma answered. He followed Arnoul out towards the landing pad. Takuma's smile became real when he realized how simple this kidnapping had become.

* * *

This was new. Jet was used to Europe, America, and Australia, but Korea had a distinctly different air about it than he was used to. Also, the war added another layer of confusion. It was thanks to this, a joint United Nations police action, that allowed Frances, Albert, and him to fake credentials as photo journalists and acquire a jeep and equipment.

The UN troops were from all over the world, so communication was weak and easy to manipulate. Jet thought that was good for them, but not good overall. Considering the Black Ghost's goals, this situation played right into their hands.

It had taken them a week to get to Seoul from West Berlin, and five more days to get their bearings. Once that happened, it was easy to find a sympathetic Luxembourg outfit that had dealings with Jean-Paul. They gave directions to a French outfit. The Frenchmen had nothing but heroic things to say about Jean-Paul. He'd formally joined the military and was using his piloting skills to good use.

However, they were all discouraged to hear that Jean-Paul had been missing for two days by the time they arrived. Jet was impressed by how calmly Frances took the news. Now she seemed more determined to find him using the clues left behind.

They ended up two miles outside of Uijongbu on the third day Jean-Paul had gone missing. According to his Captain, Jean-Paul was supposed to fly some Japanese businessmen to an encampment of American soldiers to deliver some electronics. The American encampment at Uijongbu had no expectation of a deliver at all, but they had brief radio contact with a French pilot. The three cyborgs left by jeep towards the north, in spite of the American commander's bluster about the war and keeping civilians safe.

That's when Jet could finally see Frances' anxiety on display. Around dusk, the sky was threatening chilly thunder storms. That was when they heard from a Turkish unit about a small camp of ruthless, Japanese arms dealers. Right away, they went in the direction, located deep in the rocky Korean hills, in spite of the purpling, cloudy sky and the dire warning of the hardened, Turkish soldiers.

* * *

Jean-Paul moaned and awoke from a deep blackness. He gasped, feeling his whole body throb from bruises he'd received over the last three days. He tried moving his thick tongue, but it was plastered to the roof of his mouth by dryness. His left eye was swollen shut, and his right eye took in the lamplight painfully. He couldn't make out anything but the fuzzy shapes of two men.

One of them said something in Japanese. His kidnapper, Takuma Shimamura, strolled over and crouched in front of Jean-Paul's chair. He was handcuffed, but not restrained in the chair. Takuma asked in flawless French, "Are you going to tell us where your sister is?"

"Never... even if I knew," Jean-Paul snarled. "I don't know where she is! I've told you that over and over!"

"You are a very stubborn man."

"It's the truth!"

"Well, then, it would seem we'll have to be patient and hope to lure her out with you." Takuma stood up and snapped off an order in Japanese. Seconds later, Jean-Paul was yanked up out of the chair and the handcuffs were off. He was then dragged out of the small, olive tent. Lightning flashed across the sky, soon followed by loud claps of thunder.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked to Shimamura, who was leading the group. He turned and gave him an annoyed expression.

"Tokyo. You'll talk there. After all, I'm sure there is some little tidbit you're clinging onto that could assist me in getting the Double Zero Cyborgs."

Jean-Paul was shoved onto the cargo plane he had used to fly them to this spot. He was roughly pushed into the pilot's seat. Shimamura leaned over Jean-Paul and ordered, "Get us in the air. When we're over Japan I'll give you directions."

Jean-Paul wracked his brain; he noticed the gun tucked in Shimamura's belt. Unfortunately, the thugs all sat on creates towards the back of the cargo hold. Jean-Paul started the plane and guided it down a bumpy, dirt road. The plane lofted into the air just as a drizzling rain started. A flash of lightening glared across the purplish sky. Jean-Paul yanked hard on the yoke of the plane, sending it hurdling upwards, the plane shimmied at the acceleration.

He took the chance and leaped from his seat and at Shimamura, hoping to grab the gun since the man was stumbling backwards towards the stunned and sprawled thugs in the back of the cargo hold. Shimamura's knee sunk into Jean-Paul's stomach, winding him. One of the thugs grabbed Jean-Paul from behind while another crawled towards the pilot's seat.

"Toss him!" Shimamura ordered as the plane leveled out, thanks to the thug at the controls. The Japanese man yanked open the side door to the cargo hold; the thug dragged Jean-Paul towards the howling, windy sky. He struggled, but the third thug was on him now. They forced him to the opening and shoved him, his balance tilted and gravity pulled him out of the plane, towards the earth below.

* * *

"Albert, stop," Frances said over the howling wind and the jeep's engine. He pulled over and looked over to what she was staring at.

"An airplane? We must be close," Albert said, and looked over to his right, where she sat. He could tell she was in deep concentration. Suddenly, the plane shot upwards and then drifted aimlessly, dangerously. She grabbed his hand and shook it.

"It's him! Jean-Paul is up there... Oh no! He's falling!" She screamed and jumped out of the jeep. Albert squinted, but couldn't see anything through the start of the rain and darkened, dusk sky.

A blinding flash and intense heat came from the back seat of the jeep too quick for Albert to say a word. He got out and stood by Frances, while watching Jet's boosters streak across the sky towards the leveling plane.

"Come on, Jet, you can do it," Albert murmured over and over, clenching Frances' shoulder with his gloved hand as rain poured over them.

* * *

Jet couldn't think. His mind was focused on one thing: get Jean-Paul. Rain soaked him. The sky was impossibly dark. Occasional flashes of lightning helped. Jet kept flying towards the tumbling man until, finally, he flung his arms wide and felt the solid thud of Jean-Paul against his right shoulder.

He slowed his boosters, started to hover in the middle of the sky, and struggled to get a comfortable hold on Jean-Paul. Jet could tell, even in the dark, Jean-Paul's face was bruised up. Jet looked above him and saw the plane was now slowly circling around back towards them. He could make out two men hanging from the side, machine guns at the ready.

Jean-Paul shook his head and looked around towards the ground, thunderstruck, and then clung to Jet tighter, realizing what had just happened.

"Jet? What's going on? Frances?"

The whine of the planes engine approaching caught Jet's attention. He turned and attempted to head back towards his companions, but a rain of bullets stopped his approach. The plane was faster than Jet had anticipated and worked itself in between him and the other two cyborgs. He tried faking them out, but another hail of bullet skimmed close to them.

Jean-Paul's sudden gasp of pain froze Jet.

"What?" Jet asked, pulling back higher into the sky, further from the other cyborgs.

"I'm hit," Jean-Paul grunted through gritted teeth. The Frenchman tried grappling with his wounded shoulder awkwardly, considering Jet's firm hold on him. Jet mentally cursed the bad situation as the plane turned to chase them. He kept his cool and refused to panic, but he couldn't come up with a single way to avoid a new spray of bullets.

"Let's scram!" Jet turned away from the plane and head north, flying as fast as he could. He glanced at Jean-Paul's paling complexion and drooping eyelids. "Aw... fuck... she's going to kill me..." Jet murmured to himself as he put more distance between him and the hostile plane. Unfortunately, it was putting distance between them and help.

* * *

Kozumi sighed and pulled away from the microscope. He put his glasses back on and turned on the stool boosting him up at the laboratory table. He cleared his throat, getting the attention of the other two scientists across the room. They stopped stooping over the unconscious cyborg on the surgical table and gave him weary looks.

"It's what I told you; it's much worse than you what you first thought. His body is being rejected. There's is nothing I can do to stop the process. He's going through a decline we can't reverse."

"Are you sure."

"Cancers all over, white blood cells out of control... nothing... he'll be dead by the end of the year if we don't do something."

"Plus, his brain is showing no activity, whatsoever," Kaminari said in agreement. "It's not just a simple coma or something of that nature, Gilmore."

"No! We have to save him!" Gilmore insisted. "I will not let this child die. Surely, there is something, some key, to stopping this."

Kozumi hunched over, fist against his chin, thinking. "Maybe... the chemicals used in cloning his physical parts grew into an adult state too quickly. It's the pituitary gland, that artificial one Gamo used, that's killing him. There is no way to maintain this."

Silence was heavy in the stuffy laboratory only lit by the dawn light. "So... we have to start from scratch?" Gilmore finally asked.

"Or turn him into a machine," Kaminari supplied.

"If that saves him," Gilmore said, as if seizing on a last hope.

"No!" Kozumi shouted. "That's not what we should do. What kind of quality of life would he have. Think, Isaac! Giuseppe, this isn't the way. Besides, I still have some research Doctor Dressler and I worked on. I noticed his handwork with that artificial pituitary gland."

"Well, we have no way, no equipment to reconstruct a biological body for him. It would cost a bloody fortune and take years with what we do have," Kaminari pointed out, flinging his hand towards Ivan's inert body.

"We take it slowly, regress his growth. Neutralize the hormones they used. Not build another body. Let me have a shot at deconstruction. I think I can do it." The other two scientists were obviously reluctant, but said nothing. "Try it my way. We have nothing to lose. If I'm wrong, we'll go your way, transfer him into a machine. I'll contact Doctor Dressler... subtly... and try to figure out a way."

Gilmore nodded and ran his hand through his hair. "Okay, but do not... do not... let Dressler know a thing! I don't want to see 001 go through any more trauma."

To be continued.


	27. Chapter 27

Quick note: I've finished my other two stories (yeah!) so now I'm free to devote myself to this story again, which I absolutely love working on. The idea of Albert meeting Jet's parents has my attention; it'll get volatile next chapter. The next part is going to be action, and yes, finally some romance. Good news, too, I almost am finished with the next chapter. I also wanted to give a shout out to all the people who I met during movie night in February. Nice to have chatted with you, and I'm hoping we can do it again soon. I know Winged loved it, too. Later, SR.

Young Offenders 27

"Eights wild," Guy Licursi mumbled, tossing the cards one at a time around the rickety table. Frank took up the hand he was dealt and studied the worn cards, arranging them to see he had a good possibility for a full house with threes and jacks.

Before Frank took a sip of warm beer, he was startled by a pounding on the Licursi's apartment door. He finished his sip and refocused on his cards. More pounding.

Guy bellowed, "Toni, get the damn door, for crying out loud!"

Frank ignored the dirty look his cousin, Antonia, shot her husband as she marched from the kitchenette, past them, to the front door. Frank tossed in a few chips, as did the four other men sitting around the table. Cards were traded as she wandered back from the front door.

"Oh... geeze, Toni... not another salesman. It's ten at night," Guy whined, more attention was on his cards than his wife. Frank could tell Guy thought he had a good hand. Sweat appeared on his forehead.

Antonia made an irritated grunt and waved a business card in the air. Her thin face looked confused. She wandered onto the kitchen.

"Frank! Come on... you in?" Guy snapped. Frank yanked his attention back to the cards. He smiled, tossing more chips in. The cards were called. Frank placed his full house down to get disgruntled groans from Guy and his guests. "Okay, you bastard... go fetch beers then."

Frank chuckled and lumbered towards the kitchenette. He yanked open the refrigerator and asked, "What's shakin', Toni?" She was so quiet; he looked over to her examining the business card. "Antonia?"

She looked up, wearing a vexed expression. She glanced towards the doorway; the other four men were back to playing poker. She handed the card to Frank and whispered, "Those two men looking for Jet again."

"Oh," he whispered back. "You didn't tell Guy?"

"Are you kidding? Guy would blow a gasket if he knew. I mean... thanks to that kid running away, Guy was looked over for a promotion to Sargent. He's still working the beat because that kid couldn't keep his nose clean. And now these people..."

"Who are they?" Frank asked, reading the card. Just a name and local address. He looked up to see her face grow grave.

"I think some international cops or something. They're always pretty vague. I think he's in a lot of trouble now. They've said he's running with bad people. If Guy knew..."

"Listen, Toni, you do have a good kid. He got mixed up with the wrong crowd when he was twelve. Guy didn't exactly help the situation. I'm sure the girl he's with now wouldn't hurt a fly," Frank mumbled, cracking open another beer.

Accusing suddenly filled Antonia's eyes; Frank silently cursed his big mouth.

"What girl? I never said anything about a girl. Have you seen Jet?"

"Well... let me explain..."

* * *

Albert reacted instantly and lifted his hand into the air towards the plane pursuing Jet and Jean-Paul. He had to stop them from the chase, give Jet a chance to get some distance. He fired and hit the mark. The plane burst into a fireball. Frances' scream startled him. She ran forward, but he caught her elbow.

"Why did you do that!" she shouted, pounding a fist against his chest. Rain started drenching them both, plastering her blond hair to her forehead and hiding the tears Albert knew were in her eyes.

"Come on," he said, tugging her towards the jeep.

He quickly started the jeep, not able to see anything in the sky when lightning flashed. A sinking feeling hit his stomach; he cursed his hasty action and prayed Jet was safe. He knew Jet was rash, but he was also tough as nails. He hoped after two years Jet now relied more on common-sense than boldness.

* * *

Jet landed clenching Jean-Paul to his chest, albeit awkwardly; the blow back from the exploding plane was trouble. It was dark, but he spotted a rocky overhang. He dragged Jean-Paul with him and got the tall Frenchman to sit.

"You okay?" Jet blurted out, kneeling beside Jean-Paul.

"What did you ask?" Jean-Paul asked in French.

Jet growled realizing he'd used English; he then asked in French, "Are you doing okay?"

"Fine. I've been through worse. I do need a medic." Jet heard Jean-Paul wince.

"Awe man... don't be hurt. She'll kill me."

"Frances?" A flash of lightening illuminated their hiding spot. Jet could see Jean-Paul was stunned. "What! How could you bring her here? I thought you would be a responsible fellow! This is a war zone!"

"Hey! Don't yell at me! In case you didn't realize it, your sister is a grown-up! And pigheaded! Once she gets an idea in her head, I can't talk her out of it!"

"Still! What about Herr Heinrich? Where is he?"

"Hey, he don't own us," Jet snapped.

"I thought he, being older, would keep you two out of these situations."

"I said he don't own us," Jet snapped, flopping backwards on his rump. He glared towards where Jean-Paul sat in the dark.

"Fine," the man finally said. "We need to get going and find Frances."

"No, not yet. We're better off staying put."

"What?"

"Yeah, Al will find us. He'll have an easier time if we stay put."

"But Frances..."

"She's in good hands with Albert. Sit back. It won't be long," Jet promised. He drew his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around his legs. "Albert hasn't ever let me down. He'll be here."

Loud claps of thunder were the only thing that punctuated the silence between them. Jet lost track of the time, but kept his senses aware for any danger.

* * *

"Over there!" Frances shouted pointing towards the right. Albert jerked the steering wheel towards where she directed. Several minutes later they pulled up in front of a dark, rocky overhang.

"Albert!" Jet shouted from the darkness.

He jumped out of the driver's side and jogged over to where he heard Jet. Rain lightened up, but the ground was slick with mud. He stumbled slightly and continued towards the dark.

"Jet, damn it! Where are you!" Albert shouted.

"Jean-Paul!" Frances shouted, chasing after Albert. Out of the deep dark, Jet stepped out supporting Jean-Paul. He could see them illuminated by the jeep's headlights.

"No time! Let's get out of here, Frannie," Jet snapped. They both quickly helped Jean-Paul into the back of the jeep. Frances got in beside her brother. Before Jet got into the passenger's seat, Albert gripped his shoulder and swung him around. Jet had a guarded, yet startled, expression. Albert smirked and gave Jet a light smack on the cheek.

"Being a hero...," Albert said.

Jet's mind was still in a daze. He shook it off and waved his hand at the jeep. "You can chew my ass later, he got banged up."

Albert nodded, watching Jet scramble to get in the jeep. Albert promised himself later was going to come.

* * *

Albert breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the aid station medic finished wrapping up Jean-Paul's arm. The blond Frenchman sat on the edge of a cot, flexing his left hand.

The medic station wasn't sanitary in the least. It was a dim dugout with a canvas tarp overhead with wounded men and busy medics around. A few medics gave glances towards the slight woman kneeling at the edge of the cot, holding Jean-Paul's hand. After all, this wasn't a place you normally saw a young woman.

Albert nodded to himself, confident he could let Jean-Paul's wary eyes watch after Frances for a while; he needed to deal with his other constant companion, and he could tell the Arnoul siblings had a great deal to discuss without his input.

He left towards an impromptu motor pool and quickly spotted Jet perched on the jeep's hood, smoking in the dim light of the moon. Albert was relieved the rain had broken so they could make a quick escape. Inevitably, there would be a lot of questions asked about Jet's casual lies about being war correspondences that wouldn't add up.

He cleared his throat rather than speak; Jet appeared too deeply wrapped into his own thoughts. Jet looked up, his expression grew tense, so Albert gave him a smile and shook his head.

"Don't worry, he's fine. It was a small wound."

Jet's shoulders slumped as he huffed out a large sigh. He pointed his two right fingers towards Albert's nose, cigarette clutched between them, and worked up a glare. "Cram any lectures, Albert! I didn't have a choice."

Albert held up his hands and waved off the attack. "I'm not going to lecture. You did the right thing."

Jet slowly clamped his jaw shut and gave a jerky nod. "Damn straight! We need to help keep people, especially Frances' brother, from getting killed."

"I said you were right. You saved his life, it was very brave."

"Then what were you about to bust my chops for? Saying I'd end up dead acting like a hero?"

"You never let me finish my sentence," Albert replied with calm. Jet clenched his lips and crossed his arms. Albert could sense there was some part of Jet that had closed off and was now defensive; it worried him because Jet hadn't been like that with him in months.

"Well, then lay it on me, daddy-o?" Jet reverted to English slang, not a good sign in Albert's judgment. The language was used to keep him, Frances, and Ivan at a distance, highlighting that Jet was emphasizing his non-European status in their group.

"I was about to say I wasn't surprised by your heroics. It was a good judgment on your part, but your rashness still could get you killed."

"How 'bout your... rashness, Heinrich? You shot down the plane! What if I would've been closer?"

"You weren't, and I knew those men could have killed you. That's why I acted. Why are you trying to start an argument with me?"

Jet glared, hopped off the hood of the jeep, and started to walk off. Albert said, "Jean-Paul confirmed it was Black Ghost agents on the plane." Jet paused, took a couple of jerky steps backwards, and swirled to face Albert, nose-to-nose.

"I didn't want to hear that," Jet said flatly.

"I've never lied to make you feel better, and I never will. Grow up, because we have to move, quickly. Get back to our base," Albert said no louder than a whisper.

"Fine. After that, I'm going to beat feet back to the Big Apple 'cause I ain't jumpin' bad with the Black Ghost. Dig?"

"No, I don't understand, if that's what you mean. I haven't seen you like this in a long time. What's on your mind? Why would you want to go back to New York all of the sudden?"

"Trollin' for skirts... for all you need to know," Jet snapped. Albert shot him a disbelieving, side-long glance; Jet had eyed a few young ladies on their travels, but never once approached one. Obviously, Jet had some purpose in New York he was feeling torn up over. It was futile to try to communicate with Jet until he was ready.

Albert turned to walk away, but said over his shoulder, "Get the jeep ready. I'll get Frances and her brother. Hopefully, we can get out of here before the Black Ghost shows up again. It wouldn't be pretty if they got a hold of Jean-Paul... or any other people we know."

Albert didn't miss Jet stiffen at the last admonishment, before he left to get Frances and Jean-Paul. There was restlessness and anger in Jet, and, after Albert's time with Jet, he knew it would lead to a dangerous situation.

* * *

Leaving Korea was easier than Albert had thought it would be. They traveled in relative silence back to Paris on an American cargo plan. Albert noticed Jean-Paul and Frances both seemed exhausted and dozed, mostly.

Jet, on the other hand, kept to himself, staring out a small round window. Albert didn't miss the anxious way Jet twirled his lighter between his fingers, nor the furrowed brow and hostility conveyed by his body language. The only glances Jet granted didn't invite conversation, so Albert kept to himself.

When they arrived in Paris, Jean-Paul tugged Frances aside and Albert took the hint when Jean-Paul asked for privacy. Jet followed him over to a bench beside the landing strip. Minutes later, Albert glanced over and asked, "Are you still leaving for New York?"

"What's it to you?"

"Are you going to come back? At least come to Sicily and say good bye to the doctors and see how Ivan is doing."

"Yeah. I want to see how the kid is doing."

Albert kept his irritation in check. After all, Jet was an adult and could do as he wished. He was used to thinking of Jet being an overgrown child too often, underestimating him on a lot of levels. Jet undoubtedly felt stifled, he hadn't been given a chance to finish settling into being an adult. Then again, Albert rethought darkly, Jet had been through so much that forced him to mature quicker than he probably would have.

"Jet, I don't know what's going on with you now, or what you're thinking, but be careful."

"Oh, so now you're sending me off with your blessings," Jet spat out bitterly.

"No, because you don't need my permission, you're a grown up. But... as a friend, you have my concern."

Jet's face flushed and he looked down at his feet. Suddenly, he chuckled, catching Albert's curiosity. Jet nodded towards Frances and Jean-Paul a distance down the landing strip. "He ain't coming to Sicily with us."

Albert quirked his eyebrow and sighed. Frances' hands covered her face and her shoulders were quivering. "Nope, but she'll be alright now. And I think he'll be fine."

* * *

Frances felt Jean-Paul pat her shoulders; his expression was grim. She covered her face with her hands, she didn't want to hear what he had to say after their long trip. "Please... please..."

"Frances, come now. Listen and be sensible. You know I can't continue on with you, and you need to stop trying to find me."

"But, Jean-Paul, please..."

He embraced her briefly, firmly, and then held her at arms length, gripping her shoulders. He pressed his lips so tight they blanched. "It's not the end."

"But why? You'll be in danger. We can protect you."

"Because I realized that those men will use me to get to you. I refuse to let that happen. For now, we have to stay separate and work at exposing them. Once that's done, I can find you. Then you can get your life back. That's what I want, very much."

All she could do was nod; she knew he was right. The thought of Jean-Paul being at the Black Ghost's mercy was more than she could stand. Not to mention, she owed it to her three male companions to keep herself free of any type of emotional manipulation the Black Ghost could employ. A sadness settled into the pit of her stomach, but she was at peace with what Jean-Paul said.

He tilted his head briefly towards Albert and Jet standing off in the distance and said, "Stick close to them."

"I've grown close to them. I couldn't imaging living on my own right now. And you..." Frances said gripping his hand tightly, "...take good care of yourself."

He smiled warmly at her. "You hold on to my pocket watch. I want it back one day." He slid his arm over her shoulders and walked her over to where Albert and Jet stood.

* * *

"Home again," Albert said dryly opening the door to the Sicilian safe house. Jet just shot him a dirty look, as was becoming habitual for the New Yorker. Frances, on the other hand, gave him a smile in spite of her exhaustion.

"004?" Gilmore called from upstairs.

Albert turned towards the stairs and called up, "We're all here. We found Jean-Paul. He's hiding out on his own now."

Gilmore came down the stairs, wearing a somber expression. Dark circles were under his eyes. His lab coat was rumpled and stained, not at all like the fastidious, Jewish scientist. "I need you three to sit down. I've got some unfortunate news."

"Just spit it out," Jet snapped.

Gilmore fixed Jet with and ugly glower. "Ivan's sick."

"How sick?" Frances asked, sinking into a chair.

"He won't live past the end of this year."

With that, Frances jumped back up and almost knocked Albert over as she ran up the stairs. He jogged after her, caught off guard by the news. He followed her into the attic laboratory.

Kaminari and Kozumi were sitting at a drawing table. Ivan was across the room from them on a soft bed. He was blankly staring up at the celling. Albert was not only stunned he was awake, but also appeared emaciated.

"Ivan," Frances said, and quickly sat on the side of his bed. His heterochromatic eyes drift to her face. "How are you doing?"

"Well enough."

"The doctor told us you were ill. Are you comfortable?"

"I'm fine, Frances. Please don't worry."

"He's being rather pigheaded about taking his medication," Kozumi said, walking over with a syringe.

Ivan shook his head. "I want to be clear headed and have access to my abilities; I can't do that on pain medication."

"But, you're very sick," Frances insisted.

"You mean dying. Yes, they told me. Cancer. I've accepted. I welcome it."

"You can't mean that! Not when you've come so far," Frances said.

"There was something I was told when we were prisoners... the second time. It'll be better for all of you... all of humanity if I were gone."

"What happened to you back there?" Albert asked and walked over to the foot of his bed, crossing his arms.

"I was briefly reunited with my aunt, she'd mastered clairvoyances. She passed away, but before that she predicted what I'd become if I keep living. I'd become that monster I've always feared I'd become."

"I remember talking to you once before about it," Albert said, thinking back to the ship ride towards Australia. "But you're mistaken if you don't think you have free will to change it. You're not fated unless you choose to be. You know what could happen, but you can change that."

"And I'm choosing to embrace my illness."

"That's a cop out," Jet scoffed from the doorway. He walked in and stood beside Albert, arms crossed, as well.

"There is nothing to do anyway," Ivan snapped back.

"There could be, but it's drastic. You just keep dismissing our plan," Kaminari said.

"It would involve too much risk," Ivan said.

"What did you have in mind, Herr Doctor?" Albert turned to the Sicilian scientist.

"Well, it seems the growth hormone developed by Doctor Dressler was used on him. It's obviously not stable. We need to convince Dressler to help us."

"Dressler? Wasn't he..." Jet started. Albert turned and smirked.

"Same one, I bet," Albert turned back to Kaminari. "He didn't like helping us last time."

"But, I think he was starting to have a change of heart," Gilmore interrupted.

"We'll I'll go to Switzerland and have another conversation with the good doctor," Albert said.

"He's actually guest lecturing at Columbia University," Kozumi said.

Albert looked over his shoulder. Jet was very grave. He ran his hands through his red hair and said, "I'll fetch 'em this time, since I'll be going to the Big Apple. All of you stay here and keep Ivan company."

"I'll go with you," Albert insisted. Jet's eyes narrowed and hardened. There was a slight tremor in Jet that Albert couldn't miss; it was the telltale sign Jet was about to explode in anger. "Before you start screaming your head off, keeping in mind Dressler is still Black Ghost. I'm just going to ensure he gets back here. Nothing more. You can do as you wish and stay in New York."

Jet's jaw clenched, he stormed off. Albert heard the loud slam of a door on the second floor. He turned his head and met Frances's eyes. "What's bothering him?"

"I don't know, but I'll find out." Albert turned to Ivan and patted his frail shoulder. "Hang on, Ivan. We'll get you well."

Ivan shook his head. "I don't want you to help me."

"We all stand together. No arguments."

"Okay," Ivan finally murmured.

* * *

Jet kept his mouth firmly shut on the flight to New York, and, thankfully, Albert had stopped trying to start conversations. He had fervently wished to be rid of Albert's presence in his life, but it wasn't working out. Just lately, his emotions went spinning out of control every time Albert was near, and Jet was getting exhausted trying to sort through them.

Not to mention, Jean-Paul showing up again reminded Jet that his own parents could be used against him. His emotions were also mixed and torrential when he thought about them. He looked at the smooth skin around his right wrist. It used to have freckles and a scar, both given to him by his father, but the Black Ghost had taken those things away.

At first, he was grateful Frances wasn't around to pry, and Ivan to read his mind. Now he reconsidered, wishing they were there to put some distance between him and Albert. When the plane landed, Jet leaped from his seat and marched towards the exit. He slowed up in confusion at the busy airport lobby.

"What's wrong?"

Jet flinched at the question spoken in German. He turned to Albert and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I remember when this was called Idlewild. They changed the name some time when I was... away... Now it's named after the President."

"Things are bound to change."

"Guess so. So... let's get to Columbia U and then you get back to Ivan and Frannie."

"Why are you so keen on getting rid of me?"

"Because I've got things to do that's really none of your business."

"Something bothered you in Korea."

Jet let out a huge sigh and he blurted out, "I want to check on my folks."

"You're worried about you parents? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know... it's complicated... with my old man. And my ma ain't better. I never got along with them, you know?"

"Yes, I'm aware." Albert was so somber. "They didn't treat you well, but they're still your parents. For good or ill. You can go check on them, while I go to Columbia and scout it out. Or..." Albert slowly gave Jet a smug grin, "...I can come with you."

Jet paled at the idea of Albert meeting his parents, but the more he tried on the idea, the better he liked it. He trusted Albert to keep him level-headed. Jet nodded and jerked his head to the lobby's exit. "Don't expect a nice home cooked meal."

To be continued... shocked, aren't you.


	28. Chapter 28

Young Offenders 28

"Are you okay?" Albert asked Jet. His brandy colored eyes shifted from the closed apartment door to Albert.

"Yeah, it's just that I've changed a lot. I wonder if they have."

"Let's find out."

Jet knocked at the door and waited a few moments as the latch was undone. His mother's face went from irritation to shock.

"Gianni? It's you? You're back?" she mumbled, but then wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug. "Where in the world have you been? It's been over two years! Do you know how much I worried? And then I found out from Frank you were here, but didn't come home." Her eyes drifted over to Albert and then back to Jet. "Who is this?"

"This is my friend, Albert Heinrich. He's in town for a little while. Al, this is my ma, Antonia Licursi," Jet introduced.

She gave Albert a long, wary look before wiping her hands on her apron and extending one, thin hand. Albert gently took her hand and shook it briefly, always concerned someone would figured out what was in his leather glove.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Licursi," Albert said. She was obviously baffled.

"Why don't you come in... Mr. Heinrich, is it?"

"Thank you." They entered the small, rundown apartment.

"So is pop still at work?" Jet asked, his eyes darted around nervously.

"Yes, he'll be home soon. Have a seat," she said waving at a threadbare sofa. "Would you like some coffee, Mr. Heinrich?"

"Yes, thank you," Albert said, sitting down on the sofa beside Jet. She bustled around in the kitchen for a while and came back with three mugs. She set them on the coffee table and sat on a chair across from them.

"Where have you been all this time, Gianni?"

"Germany, France, Italy, Japan, Australia..."

"Stop fibbing and tell the truth for once in your life," she snapped.

With aplomb, Jet shrugged and said, "Wish I was."

"Well, what have you been doing? Frank said you had some business with him."

"Frank... should've know he'd squeal. We didn't do anything really wrong, considering what we've been through. Listen, ma, something happened to me over two years ago. I can't really give you details..."

"What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into? More stealing? Drugs? Gangs? We've been through it all with you before," she said in ill-concealed bitterness.

"I didn't choose the situation I'm in now, but I'm trying to do some good. I've got friends..."

"Like a girl? Frank told me you had a girl with you last time. You didn't get some girl in trouble, did you?"

Jet face blazed bright red. "Ma, Frances is a nice girl and she's not my girlfriend. Will you just listen... I have a new life and friends. I've traveled and learned so many things. I just wanted to come back and see how you guys were doing."

"We would have been doing better if you weren't a runaway. Your father lost a promotion thanks to you. How could you do that to him?"

Albert glanced over to Jet, his fury was visible. Jet glanced down to his clenched fist in his lap; Albert reached out and gripped Jet's wrist. "It wasn't Jet's fault, Mrs. Licursi. There were four of us that were taken. We're still being pursued by our kidnappers."

She turned her ire filled eyes on Albert, and it struck him that she was actually drunk. The smell from her coffee confirmed his suspicion. "I don't know who you are or what you're doing hanging around my son."

"Jet certainly has his faults, I've gotten to know that over the past two years, but I can tell you he's changed into an upstanding young man. He's telling the truth."

Her bloodshot eyes snapped back to Jet. "So what are you doing with my son? What do you do for a living?"

"I'm not encouraging him to do anything illegal. Our group is together for protection. We've been keeping on the move and we take odd jobs. I was just a truck driver before all this happened."

"What kind of accent do you have?"

Albert let go of Jet's wrist and clenched his own gloved hands together. "I'm German."

Her sour look deepened. She turned back to Jet. "Your uncle died on D-Day and..."

"I know! And Albert was a kid when that happened. His folks got killed by Americans, but he doesn't dwell on that. It's 1963 for crying out loud!"

"You keep that tone down," she warned, sipping her coffee. Jet crossed his arms and slumped on the sofa. "So what do you want, Gianni? Money? You know we don't have any."

"Well if pop wouldn't piss it all away on cards and horses..."

"Why is it you have to ruin everything? You can't even keep your fresh mouth straight for five minutes."

"I don't want anything from either of you. I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

She opened her mouth, but the front door opened at the same time, pausing her recriminations. A man that Jet strongly resembled entered; Albert took note of the police uniform. He still had a hard time believing Jet's father was a policeman, but it would explain a lot about Jet's rebellious streak.

Jet hopped off the sofa at the same time his father's eyes widened in surprise. "Gianni? What the..."

"Pop," he said meekly, testing the waters.

"You showed up? Here? After all this time?"

"It's a long story. I just came to check in on you guys and run an errand."

"After breaking your ma's heart and trashing my career you have the balls to show your mug here?"

"I ain't staying long. I was just making sure you guys were okay."

The man looked over to Albert and fixed him with a glare. "Who's this?"

"A friend of mine."

"Bah... you ain't got no friends, just a bunch of thugs you hang around with, embarrassing me."

Albert felt a sharp sting, not for the insult hurled at him, but for the mistrust hurled at Jet. Albert no longer wondered why Jet could never accept a compliment gracefully and underestimated himself from time to time. Albert felt an overwhelming urge to come to Jet's defense, but these were his parents. Albert knew Jet had to deal with them himself or never have a chance at peace with them.

"I do have friends and a life, finally! No thanks to you," Jet spat out, clenching his fists, eyes watering. Quickly and unexpectedly, Jet's father lunged and raised a fist. Albert didn't have to get in the way before Jet slid to the side, grabbed his father's fist, and swirled the man around, twisting his arm behind his back.

Jet's mother screamed hysterically and shouted, "Take your hands off him!"

"I ain't your punching bag any more, old man!" Jet spat out before shoving his father away. The policeman looked up at Jet with shock and contempt.

"Get out! Never come back, you little bastard!"

Albert chased after Jet's hasty retreat from the apartment. "Jet! Wait!" He ran from the building and down a side alley. Albert ducked in behind him. He saw Jet pounding his fists against the brick. He grabbed Jet's wrists. "Jet! Stop it!"

Instead of bucking against Albert, the tension drained from the younger man and he slumped into Albert's arms. He wrapped his arms tighter around Jet and let him steady his breath; Albert was trying to get his own anger under check.

* * *

"...and he tried to hurt my husband. You've got to get here," Antonia said, started at the blurry numbers on the business cars.

"We'll be there in five minutes?" the voice on the other end of the phone said. She hung up the phone. Guy had retreated to the kitchen for a beer to nurse his wounded pride and still didn't know about the men looking for Jet. It was her fervent wish these men would take Jet into custody and let him experience consequences. Then Jet could come back with humbleness and respect.

* * *

Jet pulled away slightly from Albert, ashamed he had cried on the man's shoulder for the last several minutes. "Let me go," he said now hoarse. Albert's arms slowly lowered. "I need to go say one more thing to them."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, my conscience won't be clear if I don't tell them to watch out for Black Ghost agents. Once I do that, I'm done."

"Okay."

Albert followed him back into the building and to the floor where he was raised. Jet was a little surprised to see the door cracked open. He shoved the door and marched in.

"Hey, ma, I want..." The words died on Jet's lips when he saw his mother and father laying in the middle of the floor. His mother's blouse was bloodied and his father was missing the left side of his face.

"Caught you, 002!"

Jet turned in time to see a man in a black suit spring from the kitchen and loft a gun. Albert shoved Jet to the ground and aimed his right hand at the agent, killing the man dead in seconds. He yanked Jet back to his feet.

"You two aren't going anywhere!" They turned to see another agent in the doorway. Albert heard the high pitched, metallic whine. Everything slowed as Jet tugged him towards the one window. Glass broke apart as Jet crashed through first, not one sound hit Albert's ears.

They dropped back into real time on the fire escape. Jet linked his arm with Albert's and leaped upwards, rockets full blast. Albert looked down to see the agent now hanging out of the window, uselessly firing his gun at them. The building shrunk away in the distance.

It wasn't long before Jet landed on the roof of a building and let Albert go. Jet leaned over and put his hands on his knees. His numb mind couldn't process anything.

"Come on. Let's lay low," Albert said, laying a heavy hand on Jet's shoulder.

"I should have stayed. I shouldn't have left them alone. This is my..."

"No. Don't continue thinking this was your fault," Albert said, tugging Jet towards the door for the roof access.

* * *

They ducked into a small, seedy hotel room. It was rundown and not very clean, but it was out of the way with an apathetic hotel clerk. It had one rickety table, one crooked chair, one plain bed, and a scuffed dresser. He glanced in the tiny bathroom and looked back at Jet.

"Why don't you get cleaned up?"

Jet stumbled into the bathroom and slammed the door. Albert sighed, aggravated at this complication. He'd have to make sure Jet was stable before going to confront Doctor Dressler. Jet was his top priority, at the moment. He broke off his thoughts when he heard the shower run and then stop after several minutes.

Jet finally reappeared wearing nothing but jeans; his damp hair was brushed back from his forehead and hung loose down his neck, now free of pomade. Albert sat on the chair as Jet stumbled over to the bed. The bed squealed horribly when Jet collapsed on it.

"I didn't want this to happen."

"I know."

"I shouldn't have come back. Now they're dead... and the last thing we did was fight. Not that we did much else."

"You were trying to do the right thing. You aren't responsible for what happened. The Black Ghost is. Not you."

"Damn it! I just..." Jet's voice choked off, his head dropped forward. Albert moved over and sat beside Jet. He slid his left arm over Jet's shoulder. "I'm a screw up, just like they said. Worthless."

"Stop with that," he gently chided. "They didn't know you now. It's a shame they didn't have the chance to know who you've become. You're not that same kid going down the wrong path. Anyone... me, I mean me, I'm very proud to know you."

Jet shivered and turned his face away from Albert. "There were some days I wished them dead. But now... now I really regret that. They were drunks and they used to smack me around a lot, but I should have never even thought it. They were my folks, and compared to the Black Ghost..."

"Two very different things. You've had a lot of hardships in your life. It's made you strong, and I see a compassion in you, too. All you can do is carry on. Listen, an agent knows we're here. We'll have to be careful around Dressler, and I don't think you should stay in The States."

Jet slowly met Albert's eyes. "I'm tired of running from the Black Ghost."

"I know. You've been angry lately and withdrawn. I've been worried about you."

Jet slumped down on the bed, laying on his stomach, face buried in the thin pillow. Albert stretched out beside Jet and gently rubbed circles on his back. Jet alternated between choked sobs and angry curses. Eventually, Jet's breathing evened out and it seemed he was drifting into a restless sleep. Albert felt his eyes droop closed, heavy and scratchy. He vowed to take a quick doze, not relishing the floor.

* * *

"...and of course, your brother left you custody of his only child, Akira Shimamura."

Hitomi Kitagawa lowered her eyes from her brother's bland, graying lawyer. For once, real emotions, rather than feigned, could be seen: anger and bitterness. She nodded after tucking away a thick envelop full of legal documents in her over-sized handbag. She quickly slipped on her sunglasses, knowing there were some reporters outside the building.

"Is that all?" The man nodded, and she quickly stood. "My lawyer will be in contact with you about the paperwork submitted. Thank you very much for your efficiency."

"If I can be of service, just let me know. Hondo and Takuma were good friends. It's a real tragedy for two sons to lose their fathers. At least they'll have someone as gracious as you to raise them."

She gave him a slight tilt of the head and left the office. In the main lobby of the building, she saw the young nanny she'd hired cradling Akira and trying to keep Ryu from staring at the rotund Russian woman sitting near them. Hitomi wasn't surprised to see her uncanny friend; she suspected her brother's death was due to some foolishness on his part. Erica's appearance only proved it.

"Yuki, take the children to the car while I talk to Mrs. Gamo," Hitomi said.

The young woman bowed deeply and shuttled the children out towards the waiting limousine. After that, Hitomi dropped any pretense of emotion from her face and gave Erica an acknowledging nod. There was no reason to wear her normal masks around a psychic. "I thought you'd be here sooner."

"I had to abandon the search for Ivan to deal with two particularly irritating Greek scientists. Dr. Uranus had some interesting things to say after I redecorated his laboratory. Needless to say, he implicated your brother. He knew something about the Double Zero Cyborgs. It seems he ran afoul of them."

"He didn't do anything on my orders."

"I know, dear, please don't worry about that. I was sent to read your mind and make sure of where your loyalties are, I know you understand."

"Of course, I wouldn't respect the Merchants of Death, otherwise. Speaking of which, technically, Shimamura Electronics is under my trust until Akira comes of age. It's hidden and divested under the name Masamura Technologies to protect it from enemies. I want a larger say in Merchant of Death business, for my son's sake. Call it compensation for my brother's untimely passing."

"I'm sure Scar wouldn't mind exchanging favors. After all, we need some more funding. If that funding can be given in like kind product exchanges, I see no difficulty."

Her cherry colored lips twisted into a smile. "I want to make sure my son will be the one in control of Shimamura Electronics, not his cousin."

"I understand," Erica said, nodding sympathetically. She tugged her white gloves back in place and said, "Now, that this visit is over, I'll go report your innocence and request. Expect to hear from Scar soon."

"Yes, and good luck finding your son. If Hondo's men hear anything about the Double Zero Cyborgs, I'll let you know right away, unlike my brother, who squandered his chance."

* * *

Albert started awake, thinking he'd overslept for work. He wondered why Hilda hadn't rolled over and shaken him. The smooth skin under his left hand was icy cold. His eyes focused in the dim lighting, his groggy mind jarred awake seeing it was Jet, not Hilda, stretched out beside him.

He looked closely, relieved Jet was in a deep sleep. He admitted it felt nice to have a warm body laying beside him again, but then potential situations leaped into his awareness. He eased his left, feeling hand off Jet's bare shoulder and slipped off the bed as quietly as he could. He pulled the chair up to the side of the bed and hunched over, eyes watching for any sign of wakefulness in Jet.

When he had studied music at the Universität der Künste Berlin, before marring Hilda, Albert had discreetly dated several women and a couple of men to keep the loss of his family at bay. They had all been a distraction, until Hilda. He gladly put away all others in her favor. He had wanted desperately to make a home with a wife and children. Now that was gone, and he found himself starting to crave companionship again.

He had to admit he wouldn't be much of a companion, even with some of the improvements made to his body from his second experience with the Black Ghost. He felt his soul was a little less human as he struggled with his machine side. He found the idea of trying to establish a new, standard family distasteful; that dream he put to a close. It didn't mean physical and emotional cravings had stopped. It was as if an icy cover was slowly melting, and the closer he got to Jet, the quicker it was disappearing.

He thought back, trying to pinpoint a moment this shift had happened. He figured sometime in Germany, when Jet didn't even flinch away from helping the Schafer family and all the others escape East Berlin. They spent several nights at the neighborhood biergarten and sitting up talking, too many restless nights. And then the memory of what Jet went through that second time in captivity hit Albert hard. He couldn't bear the thought of Jet suffering like that, now that he had a glimpse of how he was raised.

Jet gave out a slight moan and thrashed around, landing on his back with arms splayed out. Albert could see he was starting to slowly wake. Jet turned his head and whispered, "Water?"

Albert stood and got him a cup of water from the bathroom. Jet sat up, took it, and drained it. Albert sat back down and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "You're coming with me to get Dressler and then we'll go back to Sicily."

Jet chuckled and clenched the cup in between his hands. "What happened to all the talk about me making my own discussions."

"That was then, this is now. You can't stay in New York with the Black Ghost."

"What if I refuse?" Jet asked with no fire or spunk. He was just drained.

"Then I'll stay with you and persuade Dressler to leave the Black Ghost," Albert answered. He gave his head a rueful shake. "But I really want you to come back with me."

Jet hopped off the bed suddenly and marched over to the dresser where his white t-shirt lay. He tugged it on and looked at Albert. "Well, let's go get Dressler."

Albert stood and gave Jet a firm, lingering pat on his upper arm. "I'm glad you're coming home with me."

"Hey now, New York is my home. Lots of shit just went down and I have to let things cool down. One day, I will come back... for good."

"How about your parents?"

"I'm coping. It's more complicated and it'll take some time to sort it out."

"I'll listen when you're ready to talk it out."

"Right now, I'd rather concentrate on getting Ivan better."

Albert went over to the door and opened it. "So long as your head is in the game."

* * *

"Great! Thanks to your idiocy, we're banished out here," Gaia raged at Uranus. Both were pacing around their secret laboratory in Macedonia. Gaia was furious Erica Gamo had packed them off after her husband 'suspended' them.

"And I told you I was sorry! I thought I had a lead on the Double Zero Cyborgs. Now, calm down! This is a great opportunity for us."

"What! We're surrounded by guards and are forbidden from leaving!"

"Yes, but Gamo is still letting us research, and they haven't found our test subjects in cryogenic sleep downstairs. We'll just quietly do work and keep low. We'll be able to achieve what we want without the Black Ghost stealing from us. Don't you see? This is the opportunity to get some freedom!"

"Yes, but we're still at the mercy of the Merchants of Death's funding!"

"Don't worry about that. We still have some contacts over at the Black Ghost, some scientists that want us to succeed. We'll let things die down and then we'll reestablish our connections."

Gaia glowered, stroked his thick, black beard, but didn't protest. "Fine! You do have a good point."

"I know I do. And when we get ready, we'll use our Greek god recreations to get back into Scar's favor and catch the Double Zero Cyborgs," said sensibly.

"We should get working. The twins await."

* * *

Albert and Jet spotted Dressler rambling across a grassy patch in between two domed buildings. Albert was the first to catch up to the doctor and clapped a firm, metal hand on the shoulder. He yanked the surprised man around and smiled.

"Herr Doktor, it's been a long time," Albert greeted.

The man shook his head vigorously and hissed, "No!"

"One of your little inventions made a friend of ours sick, so you need to come and fix him up," Jet said, leaning close to the man's face.

The doctor looked baffled for half a minute and then asked, "Ivan Gamo? He's sick? With what?"

"Cancer, but Gilmore and some others think they can help him with your assistance," Albert said. "So, I think you'll need to come with us."

"Are you mad! The Black Ghost will kill me. They'll send Mrs. Gamo. The Gamos will stop at nothing to get their son back, and neither will Scar. He's one of their greatest weapons right now."

Jet grabbed the man's tweed jacket and gave him one solid shake. "Listen, Poindexter, don't you ever call him a weapon. You're going to get your ass on the next plane with us or else you'll end up six feet under!"

Albert didn't flinch away from Jet's side. He knew Jet was bluffing about killing the man, but he figured Jet wouldn't be above dragging the man by force, if need be. And Albert wasn't above it either. Jet's bluff worked and the doctor bobbed his head in assent.

Albert gave him a firm shove towards a taxi across the grassy patch. "I had a feeling you'd see things our way."

Dressler turned, vexed, but kept moving towards the taxi. "I'm only going to see what went wrong with my formula. Don't forget it."

"Trust me, we won't," Albert said, vowing to keep a close eye on the man.

To be continued.


	29. Chapter 29

Cyborg 29:

"Home again," Albert said, turning the key before opening the door. The villa was dark, the time being around three in the morning.

"I'm beat," Jet said.

"I didn't come here for a vacation," Dressler snapped, following them into the foyer.

"Albert?" Frances called from the top of the stairs. He looked up and smiled. She jogged down the stairs, her pink robe fluttering. "Thank goodness you're back. What took so long?"

Albert glanced over his shoulder at Jet. The New Yorker gave Albert a pleading glance, so Albert took a deep breath and turned back to Frances with a smile. Laying his heavy hands on her thin shoulders, he said, "Nothing to be concerned about. As you can see, we brought a new house guest."

Frances clutched the top of her robe when she turned to the doctor and nodded politely. "Doctor Dressler, thank you for coming to see Ivan. I hope it wasn't against your will, but we do need you."

"Not my choice, but I think this can be beneficial to me. I'm exhausted. I'll see 001 tomorrow," he said gruffly.

"Albert, you and Jet will have to room together again because with Doctor Dressler we're out of spare rooms. I went ahead and fix you both a space in the cellar. It's a little drafty, but I'm sure our situation will change soon. I'll take you to the guest room, Doctor," Frances murmured, turned, and lead the cantankerous scientist upstairs.

"Do you think we can trust him?" Jet whispered.

"We don't have a choice," Albert said. "We'll keep a sharp eye on him. In the meanwhile..." Albert gave Jet a light smack in the center of his shoulder blades. His left, fleshy hand drift to the small of Jet's back before he broke contact. He noticed a small shiver from Jet; it gave him pause, but his drowsy mind wasn't in a state to analyze Jet at the moment. "...let's get some sleep. And I assume you didn't want to tell Frances why we were delayed?"

"Yeah, I'll talk to her. Maybe tomorrow," Jet blew off, looking flustered, then adopting a gruff attitude.

Albert sighed and said, "Make sure you do sometime when you're ready. It's long past time I stepped out of conflicts between you two. It's not my job to mediate you two any longer. Just keep in mind if you keep something like that from her, she'll be upset."

Albert walked to the doorway recessed under the stairs that lead to the cellar. Jet followed after flicking the light switch. The light didn't do much to beat back the shadows. Albert didn't feel the chill as much as Jet; he could tell by the way Jet quickly snuggled under wool blankets on one of the cots, clothes and all. The cots were located among wine barrels, crates, and a table and chair set. It was dank and moldy, so Albert cheered himself with the thought that at least they were free in this dungeon like atmosphere.

"Albert?"

Albert started to remove his outer shirt and kick off his shoes. He quirked an eyebrow at Jet after long silence and yanked off his leather gloves. "I'm listening."

"I thought a lot about what you said in New York and what happened with my folks. I'm not blaming myself so much, anymore, but I'm actually pretty angry with the Black Ghost. You know, it's like they even took away the chance I had to get things right with my folks and make up with them. I don't think it really would have happened, but maybe, it could have. At least with my ma."

Albert laid on his cot, resting his head on his laced fingers and staring at the thick beams overhead. "I know. Our old lives, the chances we had, are done. We have to take what we have left in life and make it good. 'Could have beens' won't get us anywhere."

"I know! We need have a goal and I know what mine is. No more questions, no more running off. I'm going to stop the Black Ghost even if it takes my last breath."

Albert turned his head to see Jet's brandy-colored eyes were sober and intense. There was a serious set to his pointed jaw. "You're right. It's what's left to us. Stopping the Black Ghost. That, and helping people. We can use what we've been given, even if it seems like a curse, to do some good for humanity."

Jet nodded. "You're right." Suddenly Jet chuckled and smiled, the first time in months. "Yeah, it's like I have a new family I didn't want. What a curse!"

Albert dredged up mock anger, in spite of the warmth in his chest. He swiftly took his pillow and smacked Jet's face. Jet made grunts, yanked Albert's pillow away, and smacked him back. Albert couldn't help but laugh as they settle down.

"You know..." Jet let out a huge yawn and mumbled, "...I wouldn't know how to fall asleep without your snoring anyway."

"Me snore? With your beak? You're one to talk," Albert groused and settled on his cot. It wasn't long before he fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

"Good morning," Frances said to Jet while she finished slicing grapefruits for breakfast. He turned a chair around wrong-way, straddled it, and leaned over the back. He was about to gripe about the fruit, but she set a plate of scrambled eggs and sausage in front of him.

"Awe, Frannie! You're the most wonderful girl in the world. With your cooking and gams like yours, you'll make some lucky bastard happy." He started attacking his breakfast when she sat beside him with a cup of tea and the grapefruit.

She smiled at him over the rim of the mug, steam rising into the the glaring, dawn light filtering in through the slats of the venetian blinds. "The doctors have already been working."

"How long?"

"Two hours," she said before a sip.

"What time is it then?"

"Almost ten, but that's not so late in the morning for you," she said with a playful squint in her eyes. He returned it and shook his head. She set aside her mug, but before she could reach for her grapefruit Jet took her hand and gave it a firm squeeze. She gave him an inquisitive look, but squeezed his hand back.

He took a deep breath and said, "Frances, I've got to tell you something about New York. Just to let you know."

She laid her other hand on his and coaxed, "You can tell me anything."

"When we got there. Al and I went to go see my folks first, but it went all wrong." Jet took a deeper breath and launched into the story of visiting his parents; it was in a grave tone, but he left out nothing. He ended with, "And then I grab Albert and fled... flew away. I don't remember much after that. We woke up the next day and I decided to come back here."

"You wanted to leave us? But why? Was it something I said?"

"No! Frannie, after that one moment at the Black Ghost... the second time... I felt your hands gripping mine and your nails dug into my palms as they were tugging me away. They gave me a good beating in my cell, but I fought it off because I was scared shitless they'd go for you next. I didn't want to see anything happen to my folks, either, even if they were rotten and miserable. Watching you and Jean-Paul reminded me of that.

"I'm still spooked about the Black Ghost killing my folks, but it'll get better, because I'm going to bring them down. I made some mistakes, but the real cause of all of this junk in my life is the Black Ghost. I'm getting that in my head. That's why I've come back more determined to destroy them and free us forever. It's beyond revenge at this point. They're trying enslave humanity. It's now up to us to stop it."

"I'm with you," she said, squeezing his hands before letting them go. She rose from the table to get Jet more coffee. "I believe Ivan has been right all along. We should..."

She paused when a crisp tune sliced through the quiet morning. Jet glared at the kitchen door. "Those old quacks should be up there fixing Ivan, not screwing around."

She laid her hand on Jet's shoulder and shook her head. Jet could tell she was using her enhanced hearing by the way she cocked her head. "Something is slower and clumsy, the right side, the notes are..."

Illumination hit them at the same time. They crept towards the door and peeked through the crack. Jet was thunderstruck to see Albert at the parlor's piano, playing. Jet couldn't repress his smile or the bubbling joy at seeing Albert reclaim this part of his life. He walked out silently, Frances followed.

Albert brought the song to a close and turned towards them. Jet could tell he was chagrined by the lopsided twist of his lips and the slight blush. "Well, I'm pretty rusty. I hope Brahms forgives me."

Jet laughed and waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Hey, get some more practice and I'm sure you'll make him look like a candyass."

Albert looked down at his right hand and flexed it. Jet couldn't tell what the older man's thoughts were, but he was thinking deeply. Albert, if he was true to what Jet had observed, would clam up now. He would walk off and spend some time brooding.

The four scientists broke the moment as they trudged down the stairs. All of them were grumbling at each other. The grumbles subsided when they got to the parlor and flopped down in the settees around a mahogany coffee table.

"You two are crazy! It won't work," Kaminari said, crossing his arms and glaring at Dressler and Kozumi.

"Your plan should be used as a fall back. Besides, I thought the goal was to give him some sort of life again. Isaac, tell them," Kozumi prompted.

"Haven't you guys come up with something yet? Stop flapping your gums and get to it," Jet interrupted. The four scientists glared at Jet.

"We're deciding how to proceed. There are a lot of factors to take into account," Kozumi explained to Jet. "Dressler's formula has been successful, up to a point. The Gamos urged him to take Ivan further, into adulthood, but he had been successful in only aging or growing children to the start of puberty and stopping."

"That's horrible," Frances said, beating Jet to the recrimination.

Dressler turned hostile towards Frances. "It wasn't my intention for this to be abused like it has. The girl with the Gamos is doing well. She was five, but I brought her up to about fourteen. That was ideal. Ivan was already at a good point at being an adolescent, but the Gamos thought his power would grow with maturity. Now all that's ruined. The Gamos got greedy. It's not my fault."

"A girl?"

"Yes. Her name is Ann Ember, she's a psychic as well. Erika Gamo is training her, so you'll want to be careful. That's also why it's important for your group to get Ivan healthy again. Ann isn't as powerful as Ivan... yet."

"Lovely," Jet said flatly, flopping on the piano bench beside Albert. "I hate to point it out, but I wouldn't make book on the three of us in a match against Ivan."

"True. Or Mrs. Gamo at this point," Albert said. "If she's cultivating a new psychic, we have to avoid them until Ivan is better."

"That's all secondary to us owing Ivan our lives," Frances said, impassioned. Jet thought she looked to the point of tears. "We'll do whatever it takes to get Ivan well."

"Good. Maybe you'll argue my point to Gilmore and Kaminari," Dressler said, hopping up and turning to address the three cyborgs. "What I propose will take at least a decade or more and will be grossly expensive, but... he'll have some of his actual flesh back. It'll be a challenge to see how far I can push my formula and see if it can be used humanely."

"What do you want to do?" Albert asked.

"I want to reproduce several of his organs and body parts. Grow them to a level and then reconstruct him around a metal frame, the same as how you're constructed. The technology isn't far enough to just clone him a new body, but we could make him new organs."

"It's painful and a waste," Kaminari snarled. "I'm close to constructing a total robotic body. Cyborgs are fine, but they still have weak flesh. I could provide him a body by next year for a fraction of the cost."

"Wait a minute. It's not our choice to make," Albert said. Jet looked over to the staircase where Albert's attention was. Ivan sat on the stairs, hunched over and shaking. "Ivan, you've come this far, too far to give up and die. Make a choice to live and pick the way you want to do that."

"Ivan, we care so much about you. Please, we need you in our lives, because you're our family," Frances said.

Ivan looked up and stood on shaky legs. "I want to do as Doctor Dressler suggests. If it fails, then Doctor Kaminari can try. It would be disrespectful to my aunt to throw myself away. Plus, I did promise to free Ann. I must free her. One day."

"Fine," Albert announced with a smile and clapped his hands together. "It's settled. But, if Ivan has such a short time to live and it takes so long to rebuild most of his natural body, how do we remedy that?"

"I know. Cryogenic sleep," Gilmore said, crossing his arms and then sighing.

"What's that?" Jet asked.

"It's where they put me in a deep sleep and preserve my body in cold storage."

"But wait? Asleep for ten years or so? That sounds horrible," Jet said.

"It could be up to fifty years, depending on money and supplies," Gilmore said.

"That's worse. Just like being a side of meat," Jet said, throwing his hands in the air. Albert's elbow sank into Jet's side. He looked over, annoyed, but Albert's harsh, cerulean eyes froze his protest.

"Now that it's settled, lets get to work," Dressler said, starting to pace. "First we need ten vats of my formula."

"We can't just get it at the five and dime, hun?" Jet asked.

"No, it was stored at Ghost Island, but some of it is being shipped to Greece in a few days," Dressler said.

A devious chuckle was let loose from Gilmore. "Let me guess ,Uranus and Gaia finally crossed the Black Ghost but not enough for death."

"You know them too well," Dressler said. "It benefits us, though."

"So... are you throwing in your lot with us?" Albert asked. "It's pretty risky."

Dressler got thoughtful and then nodded. "I don't like what the Merchants of Death want to do with my formula. They want to twist it into something evil. With your lot, at least I could get back to doing what I dreamed of. Creating an endless food supply to end world hunger. Not creating monster whales and dinosaur replicas."

"Nice to have you aboard," Gilmore said. "Giuseppe, you and I can start planning 001's frame and we can let Kozumi and Dressler figure out their next step."

"So getting the formula is up to us?" Jet piped in. The idea of some action and revenge caused a flutter in the pit of his stomach.

"Yes. I'll fill you in on the details," Dressler said.

"I guess it's time for me to say good night," Ivan said. Jet watched Ivan return upstairs. He jumped off the piano bench, not wanting to dwell too much on Ivan's plight. "Looks like we're getting back into the burglary game again."

"It's for a good cause," Frances said, looking perturbed.

"Awe come on. We'll be like the James Gang! Just accept your new career. Easier on your pretty, little feet," Jet teased.

"Just like the James Gang," Dressler said. "They ship my formula by train."

* * *

Frances smoothed down the green pleated skirt of her uniform and steadied her breathing. She could hear the train conductors cuss and scream all the way in the passenger car. She braced herself as the train came to screeching halt. She listened carefully over the passengers' confused murmurs.

She could hear Jet flying above the train to watch out for trouble. She knew Albert had parked a truck across the rails and was waiting to make their demands to the engineer. Her attention went through the train cars. She got up and jogged to the front of the car and into the next one that was an empty dinning car. She got the radio fastened to her belt and clicked the call button.

"I can smell the formula. It's the second one from the end, but there are at least three men in that car defending it."

"Got them," Jet's voice came over the radio. She made her way to the main engine car as she listened to Jet tear a hole in the roof of the car. There was more cursing and gun fire, but she could hear Jet's steady heartbeat was the only one left. She finally arrived where Albert had the two conductors tied in their chairs.

"Watch them, 003, while 002 and I get the vats," Albert ordered. They'd agreed anytime they would run these missions to just use their code numbers to protect any innocent people from fallout.

She drew her ray gun out and thumbed the stun setting when Albert left to help Jet load the truck. She concentrated on the passengers' conversations, making sure none were sleeper Black Ghost agents. Finally, she saw Albert hop into the driver's side of the truck, and Jet took off into the sky.

She quickly left the engine car and jumped to the dusty ground. She got into the truck beside Albert, and he speed off towards the direction Jet flew.

"That was easier than I though," Frances said.

"For now. Next time, the Black Ghost will be ready for us. We'll have to start being very careful. But, we can do this. We have to do this. It'll bleed more resources from the Black Ghost and help us get into a better position to strike back at them."

She was silent for the next hour until they pulled up to where Jet waited on the side of the simple, dirt road. He held out his thumb and then walked over. Frances opened the passenger's door and slid over to give him room.

"That was bitchin'. I hope the Black Ghost flips its wig over this."

"If you mean get irritated, I'm sure they will," Albert said, pulling the truck back on the road and turning towards a sign with Greek lettering on it.

"I hope you're taking us in the right direction," Jet said.

"The sign said Athens," Albert replied. Jet shot him a wry look over Frances' head.

Albert shot him back a smug look and said, "I didn't mention my minor at college? We Germans love philosophy, and well, Greek goes hand-in-hand with it."

"Figures, Poindexter," Jet said, but Frances could tell his moping was all play acting. She smiled and relaxed, letting Albert and Jet banter back and forth.

* * *

"Dang it! It was them!" Gaia shouted, waving his fist in the air.

"There was nothing we could have done. They'll send us another shipment from Ghost Island, along with more security. But what would be the purpose for stealing Dressler's formula?"

"You're right. They have something going on. Well, we need to watch that the extra security doesn't stumble onto our secret project. The Black Ghost will just take over."

"I know, but I'm hoping the Double Zero Cyborgs attack our shipment again. I want that 002's device incorporated in our designs."

"Patience. We'll wait them out. In the mean while, we have to start working on the next four projects for the Black Ghost."

"The new batch of Double Zero Cyborgs?" Uranus asked. "I hope they'll listen to us and let Gamo give the subjects lobotomies."

"Doubtful. But this time, when we've got the designs for 005 through 008 finished, they plan on recruiting and persuading, rather than kidnapping. I think it's foolish. The next batch, whoever the next poor suckers are, could run off again."

"Agreed. That's why we'll remove all memory from our private test subject," Uranus said, nodding. He pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. "As far as the 005 design, a larger subject has to be selected. The frame will have to be more ambitious than the one we used for 004."

"Certainly. 004 was a good start, but his design has to be improved on to support the specifications Scar requires."

Uranus chuckled. "All of these... second generation Double Zero designs will certainly be an improvement. Let's just hope they won't rebel, too."

* * *

Frances leaned over and gave Ivan a firm kiss on his forehead. He was already icy cold to the touch. She stood, looking down at the large, silver, coffin-like box Ivan rested in. He only wore boxers and a teeshirt, because wires and tubes were hooked in so many different spots. Frances couldn't keep track of them all.

His droopy eyes slid shut. Gilmore closed the lid and locked the top. He went over to a control panel connected to the silvery, large box and tugged a toggle switch down. A swoosh of liquid filling the box was the only thing heard besides a steady, slowing beep.

The liquid finally shut off, and the beeping slowed to almost a halt. Gilmore walked over to the three waiting cyborgs and nodded. "He's asleep, now. He'll be quite well preserved in there."

Frances turned and left the cellar where the doctors had set up Ivan's resting place. Albert, Jet, and Gilmore followed her to the kitchen where the other three doctors sat around the table. Lunch was waiting; Frances realized she wasn't hungry, just saddened. Still, she ate part of a sandwich at Gilmore's urging.

"Now, money is a problem for me," Kaminari said, breaking the somber mood. "I'd like to start building his new frame by next week. Lighter, more like 002's than 004's."

"How much do you need?" Albert asked.

"It's going to cost at least 75,000," Kaminari said.

"I hope that's lira, not dollars," Jet said.

"Dollars," Kaminari said. "But Dressler pointed out most of the materials can be acquired from a Merchant of Death's manufacturing operation in Spain."

"Good. Maybe we can soak him for some bread while midnight auto shoppin'. Or I guess, in our case, midnight cyborg parts shoppin'," Jet said.

"Money would be nice to have, in addition to supplies," Albert admitted.

"See! You understand me just fine. Stop shining me on, Daddy-O," Jet griped.

"Well, I was bound to pick up meaning out of your incessant chatter," Albert smarted off.

"Are you two finished?" Dressler griped. Frances giggled as they turned to Dressler, both looked baffled, as if they had forgotten about anyone else in the room. "He's pretty wealthy and located in the middle of Barcelona. It'll be tricky, but doable."

* * *

"That was certainly profitable," Gilmore surveyed the stolen alloy, parts, and cash strung about the attic laboratory.

"He didn't even know what hit him," Jet said. "He saw Albert and pissed his pants."

"I thanked him generously when I found out he contributed to my situation," Albert said, lofting his right hand. "I think he mistook what I said."

"He got the correct message, I believe, when you blew his office to smithereens," Frances said, disapproving.

"Hey, I was entertained," Jet said, brightly.

"You know, I think this will last us a while. Why don't you three go to the mainland and take a vacation while we work," Gilmore said.

"That's a great idea! I want to kick back and enjoy myself, for once." Jet grabbed up a fist full money and waved it in the air. "And from now on, I'm going to do what I want and not give a shit any more. I'm never going to be poor again, even if I have to track down every single Merchant of Death in every country. They owe us, and they're going to pay. Now, where are we going?"

"How about Switzerland? Ski season is soon," Albert said.

"I don't know how to ski," Jet said.

"Want to learn?" Albert asked.

"Sure," Jet said and then turned to Frances. "How about it? In the mood to tag along with us and play in the snow?"

"Oh... well..."

She was about to decline, but Albert said, "I'm sure we can catch the end of the Zurich Ballet season."

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay."

"Great! Let's pack and beat feet."

* * *

"Damn it!" Scar cursed, and smashed his fist on the armrest of his throne.

The Spanish manufacturer, Delgado, clenched his fist and pointed his finger at Scar. "Why haven't you stopped them by now? They've cost me millions! You should have had them back under control by now!"

"Accept my apologies, Delgado," Scar said, fingering a hidden switch on his throne. Moments later, Erika Gamo appeared at the door. Delgado turned and paled when he saw the plump Russian woman. The man dropped dead before he could utter another word.

"Mrs. Gamo, let your husband know there will be a delay in funding. The four new Double Zero Cyborg projects must be delayed as far as the build, but continue the research. Also, tell your friend, Mrs. Kitagawa, there is a new opportunity for her to gain some influence in the Merchants of Death. I doubt she'll be as disagreeable as Mr. Delgado."

Ericka nodded her head, grabbed the Delgado's body with her telekinesis, and left with it. When she was gone, Scar bellowed in outrage. His plans for the next four cyborgs were going to be delayed years, even decades, thanks to the first four. Millions of dollars was a huge setback, along with the destruction and theft of the alloy plant in Spain.

His emotions steadied and he made a contented sigh. He'd have his revenge on the first generation of Double Zero Cyborgs. When the second set was done, he'd unleash fury on them. For now, he couldn't continue pursuing them. There were too many other concerns coming at him from General Issimo and the Merchants of Death. He'd address those concerns and build the Black Ghost into a stronger organization.

* * *

"Wow, this is a great place. I wish we could stay longer," Jet said, warming his hands by holding a mug of coco. He looked across the cafe table at Frances, who looked as cold as he did.

"Thanks for inviting me along," she said.

"We're family. Besides, I knew you'd be bummed out about Ivan."

Albert, who was sitting beside Jet, unfurled a newspaper. Jet noticed Albert's chain smoking; that indicated he was distracted and seeking something specific in the news. Jet didn't bother asking what Albert was looking for. It was the same thing when they first escaped, any strange world disasters or wars to let them know where the Black Ghost was. Albert was silent, so he figured things didn't look odd.

He looked out over Basel and sighed. The sun was sinking quickly, making the town more picturesque. The thought of going back to the villa in Palermo really soured his mood. He didn't want to be around the doctors anymore than he had to, right now. He wanted freedom to live and do things he'd never done before. Suddenly, an idea hit him.

He grabbed part of Albert's paper, in spite a couple of German swear words. He riffled through and handed most of the paper back to Albert. "What is your problem?"

"I'm going to find a job and settle down here," Jet said. "We all should. This city has tons of stuff to do. I'm sure we can make it here."

"Are you kidding me?" Albert asked, but Jet ignored him as he scanned down the German words.

"Bingo! That's it! That's the job for me," Jet said, waving the paper in the air. He hopped up and said, "Don't wait up."

* * *

"Do you think it's a wise idea for Jet to get a job and settle here?" Frances asked, watching Jet jog off down the street.

Albert let out a belly laugh. "You used Jet and wise in the same sentence."

"Oh... don't be mean."

He smiled at her and shook his head. "You know I'm just kidding. He has his own choices to make.

"You don't think someone will give him a job, do you?"

"If he comes back with a job, I'll not only eat my hat, but I'll move here, too."

* * *

Albert and Frances ate fruit and warm bread in their hotel's restaurant. Albert was irritable because Jet hadn't shown up last night. He was worried, but Albert knew Jet would be highly insulted if he were to track him down. Besides, Albert decided he no longer wanted that kind of mentoring relationship with Jet. He wanted a closer, deeper friendship, and that would require more of a show of trust on Albert's part. This would be a first step towards shifting his role in Jet's life, and Albert admitted he had some trepidation over the change.

His musing ceased when he caught sight of crimson hair at the doorway. He waved Jet over to their table. Frances greeted him brightly and he took the chair next to her. He was grinning and looking punch drunk.

"Alright, guys, now I have to find a place to live. I got a job."

The air left Albert's chest; Frances looked as stunned as he felt. He felt his face turn blazing hot when Frances lofted his green, Alpine hat towards him. The little black brush and feather decorations waggled at him as she swung it on her finger. Her smile grew crafty and then she asked, "Would you like a little salt with it?"

"What did I miss?" Jet asked baffled.

"Me making an ass of myself," Albert said snatching his hat back; Frances went back to eating her breakfast, looking very self-satisfied.

"Awe nuts. I always miss the good stuff," Jet said, pouring himself some coffee.

"We'll look for a place this afternoon," Albert said, getting ill-tempered.

To be continued.

Programing note: I can see the 2nd Gen coming around the corner! Yeah... I'll have a couple of slight leaps in time, but I'm make them smooth transitions. (Now that Yaz song 'Good Bye Seventies' is playing in my head... Arrrggg...) I think you'll enjoy what's coming. This chapter helped put me in the grove again and fired me up. Thank you to everyone sticking with me. You don't know the half of how much I appreciate your kindness and encouragement.


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: big leap in time here, but necessary. One more big leap after chapter 31. I made everything as smooth as possible. Once again, thanks for reading.

Chapter 30:

Albert picked up his daily copy of a mid-November's _Tages-Anzeiger_ and spread it over his weekly copy of _The New York Times_. Both rested on his read copy of _The Timaru Herald_. He still had the _Folha de _ to read, but he'd put that off until he got to work the next morning. He had learned to save anything remotely mentally stimulating for the November through April ski season stretch he spent in the snow packed remote Alps mountain top at the rescue station.

After all, there were only so many rounds of Solitaire he could play or books he could take with him over his six months' stay in the isolated, Alpine mountains. Gertrude, his St. Bernard, wasn't much on conversation, but she did like to try to curl up and sleep on his lap. He smiled to himself, thinking about how much she'd love to be in the mountains again and outside of the cityscape of Bern. Also, away from Jet, but that was a long story.

He glanced at his wrist watch, slightly annoyed. It was closing in on five in the morning. Granted, it was the close of Jet's work season, but Albert was starting his work season. They needed to trade information about Frances' homecoming schedule and their annual meeting with Gilmore and the other scientists. He rolled up the newspaper and smacked it in his open, left palm. He only had three more hours before he had to travel the treacherous roads.

He tossed the newspaper aside and checked the sheet of paper tacked to the refrigerator in their Swiss chalet. Frances wouldn't be back until the second of February, which was the end of her ballet season. He knew Jet wouldn't forget that date. Especially, since Frances always made him a birthday cake. Albert wouldn't be back until mid-April, which was the end of the ski season.

Jet had always been faithful picking her up since his job centered around summer and autumn. Summer days were the only time the three cyborgs spent together, anymore. They had grown extremely busy over the last ten, peaceful years finding other careers and hobbies. Albert accepted the lack of Black Ghost in their lives, gradually, and trepidation had since subsided in his mind.

He paced for a few minutes. The cuckoo hooted five times at the same time Albert heard their car pull up. Relief filled Albert when Jet finally stumbled through the front door, exhausted. He smirked when Jet collapsed on their sofa in front of the fireplace without a word. The whole first floor had the kitchen, den, and dining room open to each other. Frances' room was off to the left and the bathroom off to the right. The place where Jet should have flopped down was in the open air loft that he and Albert had split, as was their lot for the last decade in Switzerland.

There were several reasons they finally settled in Switzerland, in spite of it being Jet's whim. It was the most practical choice they could have ever made. Switzerland had French, Italian, and German as official languages, so they blended more naturally there than any other country. Jet, after so many years, had adopted a flawless Italian tone to his language that was indistinguishable to anyone besides Albert and Frances.

Also, the countryside was vast, mountainous, and had privacy. They found moments where they could relax for longer and longer periods of time. Plus, they'd stolen significant amounts of money and resources from the Black Ghost over the decade. They stored the resources with the scientists in Sicily and the money in the Swiss banking system.

"Breakfast?" Albert started to get a pot down from the kitchen.

"Al, you'd be my hero if you brought me food right now," Jet mumbled, eyes sealed.

"While I'm at work, you need to stay indoors, or keep quiet about being an American."

Jet propped up on his elbow, looking distinctly annoyed. "It's that stupid thing in Greece? Still going on?"

"The Athens Polytechnic uprising is still happening. And yes, it's escalated into bloodshed this morning, so stay in and play up your Italian heritage while I'm gone. It may be miles away, but there is certainly an anti-American feeling around the world," Albert warned, as he started some oatmeal.

"I know, I know," Jet said, waving a hand in the air. "Wonder if the Black Ghost is behind some of the things going on. So much crap going."

"Hard to say. They're not finished with what they're trying to accomplish, according to Dressler's last report. Maybe we'll go look around Greece this coming summer."

"Maybe." Jet hopped off the sofa and peeled off his black suit jacket and loosened his scarlet tie. Albert picked up Jet's jacket from the floor after handing the younger man a bowl of oatmeal. He brushed it out and smirked at the named tag: _Gianni Alessandro Licursi, Grand Casino Basel Floor Manager_. "Don't you dare start up again."

"Now, Gianni..."

"That! I warned you! I love the winter because I don't have to go by that crappy name. Just don't like how empty the house is."

Albert smirked, knowing that was as close to an 'I'll really miss you' from Jet he'd hear; he tossed the jacket over a chair. "Well, I'm all packed and ready to go, so you won't hear anything from me for a while."

"I know. Wish you would find some other job in town. Two months of Frances' nagging..."

"She's mellowed out over the years. You're just complaining to complain."

"Awe... come on..."

"Hey, your birthday and Christmas gifts are beside Frances'. And this time, could you at least wait until I drive to the end of the lane?"

"She ratted me out, hun?"

"Yeap."

"Well, why don't you let me open one of them?" Jet badgered.

Albert about blew him off, again, like every year, but he remembered Jet's birthday gift. He admitted he'd like to see Jet open that particular gift. "Fine. It's the blue wrapped gift. Your birthday."

"Woo, hoo! I got my way," Jet said, gloating as he picked up the appropriate one among the four gifts on the hearth of the fireplace. He tore the wrapping off and yanked the small box lid open. Jet froze and smiled slowly. "I don't know what to say, except, thanks, Albert."

It was a round, gold pendant with the letters 'J. L.' engraved on it; on the other side was engraved a sleek, stylized jet plane. Albert was pleased, watching Jet put the necklace on right away. At first he wasn't sure about the gift, but Jet was getting depressed, feeling as if he'd lost part of his identity by not using his nickname any longer, except at home. Albert hoped this would cheer him up some.

"I'm glad you like it," Albert said, but the phone jangled at his last word. He turned and picked up the receiver.

"Heinrich Stoeller here," Albert answered, using his own assumed name.

"Gilmore here. I wanted to touch base with you."

"We're doing well. Frances is still on tour, and I'm about to go to the rescue station."

"This upcoming April, you, Frances, and Jet need to come back to Sicily for a while."

"Oh?"

"Yes. We'll finally be ready to attempt putting Ivan back together."

"That's fantastic!" Albert said.

Jet perked up and shouted out, "What's fantastic?"

Albert turned and said, "They're ready to fix Ivan. Almost. April."

"Cool," Jet said.

Albert turned his attention back to the phone and asked, "Is there anything we need to do?"

"That is why I am calling. There is something we need you cyborgs to... acquire."

"Sure. Name it."

"When we meet in April, I'll give you details. Make it the twenty-first."

"We'll be there," Albert said and then hung up the phone. He turned to Jet, who was now stretched out on the sofa. "We'll have a mission soon."

"Good. I'm bored being a pit boss, and I'll be stir crazy by the time you get back. I really need a new career, something with some bite to it?" Jet then propped up on his elbow. "I'll call Frannie when you're gone and let her know."

"About Ivan?"

"It'll be nice to have him back. It seems like forever," Jet said.

* * *

"Mother," Ryu Kitagawa addressed the tall woman waiting in his deceased Father's study. He gave her a respectful bow of his head. The look of scorn on her graceful face caused him to keep his eyes lowered to the ground. He took a deep breath of the pine scented air, knowing the castigation he was about to receive.

"Your years of college have been a colossal waste of your father's money."

"Is that why you called me home early during the winter break? I'm at the top of my class with one more semester before graduation. Just one, Mother."

"I didn't send you to Oxford to harass English girls, drink, and spend time in and out of jail," Hitomi said, pointedly. "It's what you do out of the classroom that is disturbing. It goes against what I taught you about maintaining a clean face for the public. This last fiasco with the girl has cost me a considerable sum of money to cover up and keep it out of the tabloids." Ryu's face blazed hot. Not for the shame of ruining a high school girl's life with his reckless, devious urges, but for the inconvenience he brought on his mother.

His mother's movie star legend had afforded him many privileges. He swore to do better by her and keep his activities better concealed. "Like I wrote you in the letter, you'll be transferring to Tokyo in preparation for your impending duties in the family businesses."

He knew better then to protest or argue; his mother didn't tolerate disobedience in the least. He nodded, knowing she referred to his deceased uncle's business venture in electronics.

"Besides Shimamura Electronics and Mitsutomo Technologies, you'll be accompanying me to Ghost Island from now on."

He repressed a gasp and dared to raise his eyes to meet his mother's. She sat on the cordovan leather sofa. She didn't invite him to sit, so he remained formal and waited for her to speak again.

"You see, one day you'll also inherit everything your father and I have cultivated with the Merchants of Death. Shimamura business can be controlled through your cousin when he gets old enough. The really valuable piece of the family business I want you to concentrate on is our dealings with the Merchants of Death. It's time you've learned more about them and what they do."

"Mother, you've only mentioned them in passing. Aren't they only an occasional concern of yours? I thought it was the Shimamura business that was your concern."

"It's time you take a serious interest in what the Merchants of Death do and put aside your childish pursuits."

"As you wish."

The door to the study opened and the shout of, "Ryu," filled the stifling room.

He turned around and smiled brightly at his eleven-year-old cousin. "Is that you, Akira Shimamura? You're looking so tall, now. I hardly recognized you."

The little boy laughed and said, "I'm glad you're home now. Auntie said you're going to stay now."

"It seems so."

Akira let out a cheer of delight. The little boy froze and grew silent when Hitomi called his name faintly. He then stood demurely in front of Hitomi. "My apology, Auntie."

"Akira, go finish your lesson. I have something else to discuss with your cousin."

"Yes, Auntie," Akira said and scampered off quickly. She turned back to Ryu. "The next meeting of the Merchants of Death will be held in the Spring."

"Yes, Mother."

"I also want to tell you about a goal you have." She waved her had towards the other end of the sofa, and Ryu sat quickly. "When you were a little younger than Akira, your father made a fatal error and the Merchants of Death were almost exposed. It was soon after that your uncle made a similar mistake. That's what lead to his death as well. You see they both were trying to recapture the Double Zero Cyborgs, but they overreached."

"What? But I thought Father died of heart failure, and Uncle Takuma died of a plane accident. At least that's what you told me and Akira."

"It's time you know the truth, and it's time you use that truth to leverage yourself into a powerful position among the Merchants of Death."

"Tell me what to do, Mother."

"Learn. Make Shimamura Electronics and Mitsutomo Technologies profitable. The more money and technology we can supply the Merchants, the quicker the Black Ghost organization can get back to their research. Also, if you ever find a way to deliver the Double Zero Cyborgs back to the Black Ghost, you must. It's their fault you have no father."

Rage slowly bubbled up in his chest. "Tell me about them, so I can destroy them."

"Destroy? No. Punish them by sending them back to the Black Ghost. I'll tell you more about them after dinner and what they did to our family."

* * *

"Jet! There you are," Frances said, waving at him across the crowded train platform. She split off from the rest of the Swiss ballet company after bidding them farewell and jogged over towards Jet. She quickly hugged him and said, "Happy Birthday!"

"Oh... don't remind me. I still don't look a day older," Jet said, taking Frances' suitcase from her.

"Let's get back home. It's cold," she said. As they walked towards the car, she asked, "So Albert was able to call around Christmas? How is he?"

"Naturally, doing fine. The old crab apple and that demon dog of his are up to their neck in snow, he said."

"You should try to make friends with Gertrude. She's really sweet."

"She growls at me for no good reason. Albert says it's because I'm a city boy, but I think it's because she's plotting against me," Jet complained. Frances laughed at Jet's ongoing struggles with Albert's work dog. "Hey, never mind about Al's mutt. How about that good news? About Ivan getting patched up?"

"That is wonderful news," she said, getting into the car while Jet loaded the back with her suitcase.

He got into the driver's seat and said, "We'll have to pull another job. They need something for Ivan."

"Of course," she said, feeling dour. She still despised the act of stealing, but it had become a necessary evil in her life. It was something that helped support them and erode money from the Black Ghost. Still, it was pretty risky. "When Albert gets back?"

"Naturally. So, how about something to eat? I'm starving."

She brushed away her troubled thoughts and made a suggestion about a restaurant. Of course, Jet gave her a not too subtle reminder about cake. She laughed and promised to make one when they got home.

* * *

"But the skin is the problem. A spy cyborg that can change shape sounds good in theory, but every test has failed with the 007 theories. The technology just isn't developed enough," Gaia said, reporting their weekly progress by phone.

"You don't have to worry about that. We have a team on that one already. Your job is building the frame," Gamo replied. "Anything else to report."

"Yes. We still would like to make a suggestion for a ninth model. We'd like to suggest a cyborg centered around an acceleration device."

"Too expensive."

"Yes, but years down the road, when we've recovered our fortunes, we can use what we plotted out from 002 and improve it."

"I'll mention it to Scar and let you know if he likes your idea. Who knows? If he likes your suggestion, he may let you come back to Ghost Island," Fyodor Gamo said.

"Excellent," Gaia said and hung up the phone. He turned to Uranus and said, "There is an opportunity for us to get back in the main circle at the Black Ghost."

"So they like our idea for a ninth cyborg?"

"Certainly. I'm sure Scar will like it. Once we're back there, we'll have access to better equipment and we can push our Greek gods project."

"It'll be nice to be able to get those children out of cryogenic sleep and advance them."

"Soon, I can feel the winds of change picking up."

* * *

Albert knocked on the door of the Sicilian villa. Gilmore flung open the door, and Albert was taken aback by the silvering in Gilmore's dark brown hair, along with a few more wrinkles. He shook it off and looked over his shoulder at Frances and Jet. They hadn't aged any, and neither had Albert. It disoriented him a little more than Frances and Jet, he was sure, because he spent a great deal of time isolated, only seeing his two younger companions when he was social.

"004! Great to see you. Come in, come in," Gilmore said, standing aside. "003, you're looking fetching today. And you, 002, I'm glad to see you, too."

"Ivan is a top priority to us. I wouldn't miss this," Jet said.

"Well, let's have some lunch and we'll talk about the next step."

It wasn't long before Albert was at the kitchen table with a bowl of Zuppa Toscana. Gilmore and Kaminari were seated across from the three cyborgs. Gilmore looked thrilled, but Kaminari was dour.

"So you said something about a job so you can get around to fixing Ivan up?" Jet finally broke the silence, before finishing his own soup.

"Yes, 002. It's on a small, remote South Pacific island. Mitsutomo Technologies is the only industry there, to be precise. They've developed a new computer chip that can help stabilize his brain structure. IBM came out with them over two years ago, but Mitsutomo has improved on the design a great deal."

"Best part is, the owner is Hitomi Kitagawa," Kaminari said, gleefully.

"Who's that?" Jet asked. Frances took a sharp breath and almost dropped her tea mug.

"Jet, that's the lady with Mrs. Gamo who helped capture us the second time." The color had drained from her face. Albert glanced over to see Jet's eyes grow stormy, that bitterness in him was stirred.

"Oh, yeah. We'll hit her business alright. Burn it to the ground while we're at it."

"No, we steal what we need and get back here quickly. I don't want to leave Ivan waiting longer than he has to," Albert said.

"Do we have to, Doctor?" Frances asked. "That woman... she was so... cold... hateful, even. Very dangerous."

"Yes. His brain is in a delicate state from all the tinkering his father did with it last time. This will allow us to do final maintenance all at once."

"Don't whimp out, Frannie. This lady is going to pay!"

"Remember how horrible that time was? Well, I don't want any of us to go back."

"Albert, tell her..."

"Jet, I told you years ago you'll have to sort out any disagreement with Frances on your own. You two are grownups. Talk it out like grownups. But I'll let you know, I'm in favor of getting the chips Ivan needs."

"Me too!" Jet said. "Let's go get them."

"Kozumi will meet you at the airport. The island is close to Japan. Once you're finished, you can pick up Kozumi and we can get started." Gilmore said. "003, if you'd like to stay here, I could use your help with 001's frame."

"Fine. You boys go, but you better come back," Frances said, in an anger-tinged tone Albert didn't mistake for anything other than worry.

* * *

Getting to the small, unnamed island had been a problem Albert hadn't expected. It was surrounded by whirlpools and was far from civilization. They rented a small plane, and Jet flew it in low from the north under the cover of night. Albert could tell Jet really missed flying planes and was enjoying every minute he could.

When they landed, they covered the plane with a tarp. Jet then grabbed Albert and they were in the air by the power of Jet's boosters. In no time, they spotted the only building and headed towards it. No signs of life, the factory appeared abandoned to Albert, but he was still cautious.

Jet landed on the roof of Mitsutomo Technologies building, letting go of Albert. He looked around for any signs of danger, but nothing was forthcoming. Jet took a deep breath and steadied his nerves. Albert pointed to the door for the roof access and walked over.

"003 would be useful right now," Jet griped.

"We can manage," Albert said, with a lop-sided grin. He opened the door slowly. No alarms or anything else to worry about, so Jet followed Albert down the dark, concrete stairwell.

"This should be a cake walk," Jet said.

A mechanical rumbling came from their left. A tall, black robot with red, glowing eyes. Its spindly legs and broad shoulders made it look ridiculous, but Albert drew his gun anyway. The robot didn't engage, just observed.

"What is it?" Jet asked.

"Don't know, but we've got to move. I don't like the looks of that robot," Albert said.

They moved away from it, but the robot followed them. "Let's blast it."

"No! So long as it doesn't attack us, we're fine. If we blow it up, it could set off an alarm."

Jet nodded grudgingly and followed Albert down the corridors. They checked empty laboratory after empty laboratory. When they came to the end of the first hallway, Albert pounded his metallic fist against the wall.

"Damn it! I wish I knew were those computer chips were," Albert said.

The robot's eyes glowed brighter. It swirled around and went to the elevator. Albert and Jet shared startled glances when the robot hit the button for floor three. The robot held the door back as if waiting.

"What do you think?" Albert asked, still amazed.

"Why not?" Jet asked back and walked over to the elevator.

* * *

"Pay dirt. This looks just like Dressler's picture," Jet said lofting the small plastic case with ten computer chips inside. Albert glanced around the office. It was a little too disorganized. Something about it struck him as being recently used. The coffee rings on the desk were damp; that made Albert nervous, along with the oder of a pipe.

"Let's go," Albert said impatiently as Jet tucked the box under his belt.

"Hey! Stop, you two!" a balding man shouted from the doorway. "Unhand those, or I'll unleash security."

"You better let us go," Jet said, lofting his ray gun at the man.

"Security!"

Jet shot the man with the stun setting and swore when a red light started flashing in the corridor. Albert gabbed Jet's arm and dragged him out of the office and to where the robot waited.

"Get us out of here," Albert order the robot. The robot trudged down one end of the corridor, but halted when several larger robots showed up. They were armed. Albert turned to see more at the other end of the corridor.

"This ain't good," Jet said, thumbing his gun to the kill setting. Albert flexed his right hand and then took aim with it.

"Let's give them a fight."

* * *

"You're turning out to be quite a good nurse, 003," Gilmore said, wiping his hands with a white rag. Frances looked down at what appeared to be a metallic skeleton.

"Well, you're a good teacher." She checked Jean-Paul's watch and tucked it away. "Albert hasn't called yet."

"No, but I'm sure any minute now. He won't let 001 down."

"You right," she said absently, now regretting she wasn't along with them.

* * *

Albert looked over at Jet. The New Yorker was leaning over, hands on his knees, panting and sweaty. Albert gave him a smirk and slap on his shoulder. "Good job."

"You didn't do so bad for an old man," Jet teased, waving at the smoldering debris that was once a set of battle robots.

Albert chuckled. "You sure are winded, for a young pup."

"Let's beat it, hun? I'm not in the mood for round two, or that guy waking up."

Albert was about step forward around some debris when Jet shouted, "Albert!"

Jet lunged at him and shoved him to the ground. Albert saw Jet jerk backwards and collapse. He brought his gun hand up and fired at another set of three robot that had suddenly appeared. After he blew them into scrap metal he scrambled over to Jet; dread filled Albert's heart.

Relief hit when he saw Jet was unconscious, but breathing. Albert picked him up gently, making sure the computer chips were stilled tucked in Jet's belt. He watched the thin, non-threating robot walk towards the elevator. He did likewise, hoping the thing was still leading him outside.

* * *

It wasn't long before Albert had them secured in a cave near the tarped airplane. He estimated it was about midnight when they got there. Albert quickly got blankets, a flashlight, and a kit Gilmore had put together for emergency cyborg repairs out of the plane. Once set up, he laid Jet on the blankets and took off his sky blue scarf.

"Jet, wake up." Jet took a deep breath and then choked. His eyes fluttered open, but were drooping. Albert clenched his shoulders and gave him slight shake. "Come on, you're not allowed to leave me now!"

"I'm fine," Jet answered between coughs. "Lay off, will ya?"

"Not until I know you're fine," Albert answered. "Where were you hit?"

"The gut. Man, that was some stun gun," Jet said, weekly.

"Let's see," Albert insisted. Jet capitulated and undid the over sized buttons on his emerald green uniform coat.

Albert pushed back the jacket and lifted his gray undershirt. "Well, your stomach looks red, but I don't think anything is broken." He got a can to patch damaged, synthesized skin from the kit and sprayed it across Jet's belly.

Albert lowered Jet's undershirt when he noticed the round, gold pendant still hung from Jet's neck. He was furious at Jet and he was going to chastise him for putting himself in danger. All of that slipped away seeing that Jet valued that gift. He sat on the cave floor beside Jet and reached out for Jet's hand. He clutched it tightly.

Jet looked over at him, inquisitive, and then harsh. "Don't chew on me. You would have done the same."

"I know," he said softly. "Can you fly?"

"By myself cyborg-wise? No, too dizzy for that. With a plane? Yeah, I can manage with help. I want to get out of here before anything else comes after us. I hope Kozumi is going to let me crash when get back."

Albert helped Jet stand and got him into the pilot's seat. He packed the equipment away and got in. He avoided striking up a conversation with Jet the whole way back to Japan. His mind was in a whirl, along with his emotions. His feelings towards Jet were something he'd kept cool for the last ten years because time had seemed to come to a stand still. Albert had forgotten time's movements, and that in a mere moment, a great loss could strike.

His mind kept playing a scenario where the robots could have carried more deadly force. Albert had thought they had, and Jet had no way of knowing he wasn't stepping into death. That thought, of Jet laying down his life with no hesitation, nagged at Albert up a great deal.

His relationship over the decade with Jet had indeed changed from that of an authority figure to more of equals, but it was in a confused limbo right now. Albert had to straighten out what was between them before it got more convoluted. Especially, if Jet was going to be reckless on his behalf.

* * *

When they arrived at Kozumi's beach house, it was high noon. Kozumi had packed and was ready to leave, but the Japanese scientist generously fed Albert and Jet. He agreed to not leave until the next morning. Jet handed over the computer chips and let the man examine his burned stomach thoroughly. Jet didn't protest, as he normally would. Albert's staring at him from a corner, chain smoking, had unnerved Jet into silence.

He'd give anything to know what was on Albert's mind. He thought back over last night's events. He hadn't expected to live, putting himself in the way of a blast meant for Albert. He'd do it again and again, though, without question or thought.

He had never been so close to a person in his life, and the last ten years had been wonderful, lazy summers spent hiking, swimming, and occasionally thieving from the Merchants of Death. They hadn't been in real danger in years, and this moment reminded Jet of his acute attraction and affection towards Albert he'd kept secret.

"You'll be fine. I'll let you get settled," Kozumi said, interrupting the fluttering in Jet's chest at Albert's scrutiny. "I'll call Gilmore and let him know our plans."

"Thanks, Doctor," Albert mumbled and Kozumi left the room with a soft click of the door latch. Jet noticed Albert's cerulean eyes hadn't left him. Jet grabbed a plaid, button-down shirt beside him on the bed and threw it over his shoulders. He fiddled nervously with the necklace he'd gotten in the habit of wearing.

"You're giving me a funny look," Jet snapped, drumming up hostility.

Albert took a seat beside him on the guest room's bed. He leaned over and pressed an intense kiss on Jet, which he was too shocked to return initially. Seconds later, Jet warmed and reciprocated awkwardly. The situation was too bizarre and unexpected, but he couldn't resist the tingling in the pit of his stomach any longer. Albert pulled back and studied Jet's eyes.

"You look utterly chagrined or nervous, I'm not pleased with that reaction," Albert said. "It's been ten long years that I wanted to do that. I didn't want to wait any longer. I've lost someone before. I don't want things to go on between us without clarity on how I feel about you. One day, we'll be fighting the Black Ghost directly and our lives will be on the line all the time."

"Why didn't you do that before?"

"Because when I first wanted to touch you it was the night your parents were murdered, and you were too emotional. I didn't want any possibility of manipulating or confusing you. This type of relationship can be... problematic on its own without the complication of loosing your parents.

"I let time go by because... well... I wanted to be more certain that you would be receptive to the idea. Just last night, when you went to protect me... something snapped. I didn't want any more time to go by. We've been close friends for a long time, but my feelings are deeper and more complicated than friendship."

"You mean you wanted to see if I... you know... am a..." Jet asked, but couldn't finish the question without using a very nasty word. It was the only language he'd used around his gang, he knew no other words to describe the relationship Albert was suggesting. His icy tone seem to give Albert some pause, so he pressed, "But you were married and everything."

"It doesn't mean Hilda was the only person I was with."

"You mean... you've been..."

Albert chuckled slightly. "With lots of women and a few men. It's okay to say it."

"You've been lying to me!"

Albert's eyebrows furrowed. "How so?"

"You could have told me before now! I just... wow..."

"Jet, just tell me how you feel. I think you feel the same towards me. Yes, I admit I've kept it from you, but I had three good reasons. I told you, I didn't want to influence you too soon after your parents' deaths. You still had some maturing to do, as well, with a job and discovering yourself. Also, I wanted to make sure my feelings, even though they're born out of loneliness, would develop into something worthy of your trust and loyalty. I wanted to know what I feel towards you isn't because you are one of two choices for a relationship. I can honestly say, now, I'd pick you even if the situation with the Black Ghost was different, if we would have met as normal people."

Jet's indignation deflated, admitting to himself that he wouldn't have been ready for this until now. Albert's instincts and judgment were correct, once again, and that irritated Jet. He let out a breath and shot Albert a harsh look.

"You know, I've never... done this sort of thing before."

"You've been with girls, right?"

"Yeah," Jet answered slowly, blushing.

"Well, some things are the same, but I think you'll like discovering some of the differences," Albert said. He gradually draped his left arm around Jet's shoulder. "If you'd like to, I'd be more than happy to oblige."

Jet felt himself shiver uncontrollably. This time, when Albert pressed a kiss, Jet didn't resist.

* * *

Hitomi Kitagawa impassively took the news over the phone and hung up the receiver. She looked over to Ryu, who stood by the door waiting for her. This would be the first time Ryu would accompany her to a Merchants of Death meeting. Unfortunately, she would have bad news to report.

She looked over to her son and said, "It would seem two of the Double Zero Cyborgs raided one of our island manufacturing plants."

"One day, I'll make sure I'm the one to help bring them down," Ryu vowed, coolly. She gave an approving nod of her head.

"No matter what you have to sacrifice, our own blood and flesh even, you must avenge your father and uncle. Make them pay for this."

She stood, and they left by way of limousine to charter their flight to Ghost Island.

To be continued.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31:

Albert jerked awake and felt towards the left side of the bed. That side of the bed was still warm, but empty. A slight distress hit, but he looked over with blurry eyes and saw that the balcony's French doors were open. He threw off the covers and pulled on his undershirt and boxers that had been discarded on the floor. He fumbled for cigarettes and lighter beside the bedside table and joined Jet on the balcony. The beach was private, he had little fear of an exposed hand or leg.

Jet sat on the railing, dressed the same way and smoking. He gazed out at the dawn light cresting over the ocean waves. Albert leaned on the railing beside Jet, lit a cigarette, and waited. Jet kept silent; Albert was unnerved. He reached out to Jet's bare knee and laid his hand gingerly on it. Jet didn't flinch, he put his own hand on top of Albert's and smiled at him.

"Are you okay?" Albert asked, prepared for Jet to back out and let things go at a one night stand, if he did balk.

"Never better," Jet said brightly, but still a hint of hesitation Albert picked up on it. He went with his instincts to not press Jet. He remained quiet until Jet threw back his head and laughed.

"What?" He sounded more annoyed than he wanted.

"I'm the biggest-ass hypocrite on the planet," Jet explained.

"What? Why?"

"Because I remembered something I said to Ivan when he had his crush on Frances." Jet finished puffing on his cigarette and ground it out in the clay ashtray on the railing. "He'll kill me if he ever finds out about... us... last night... ya know... that sort of thing... He'll throw me into an ocean this time and drowned me for sure."

"I certainly hope not, now that I have you in my bed," Albert teased, but then seriously asked, "What did you say to him anyway?"

"Well, it is something we have to think about. I told him in a group as small as ours, and in our situation, even if he was more normal and Frannie's age, he shouldn't be with her because it'd screw up the group. It was like the gangs. We had strict, unspoken rules what girls a guy could go around with. That was to protect us from a lot of fighting between each other. Well, I told him he should forget Frannie, but he took it hard. I don't know that he ever quite forgave me. If this comes up, something tells me he's going to blow a gasket and call me out."

"Ivan's situation with Frances is very different than ours. Time, age, a lot of things are different. He'll understand, I think."

"Yeah, after he kicks my ass from here to the moon. And I deserve it... some. There's also Frances to worry about. She's pretty sharp and she'll catch on... some day. Like I told Ivan, this sort of thing will change a group. Really fast, and usually really bad." Jet lit another cigarette and turned to Albert. "I don't want things to change in our group, but I... you know... want to still..."

"Jet, it's okay to actually vocalize what you want instead of being so bashful with me. Especially, after last night." Albert met his gaze and said, "If you want to be with me, just say so. Otherwise, let this be a one night stand until you can be honest with yourself."

"I want to be with you," Jet said, breathy and somber.

"Good, I'm glad that's settled. And, yes, I understand about our group's dynamic, and I don't want things to change, either. The group needs to stay together. Not one of us, even Ivan, can stand alone against the Black Ghost and their full arsenal. We need to be careful how we handle Frances and Ivan's feelings. Listen, Jet," He squeezed Jet's knee firmly, "our group isn't as fragile as it once was. That second time with the Black Ghost bound the four of us together forever, no matter what, for centuries to come. From time to time, we will need distance from one another, but we are the only four who can understand each other and have a deep empathy for one another. There won't be others who understand our pain or the bond that forged."

Jet slowly smiled and wrapped his arms around Albert's shoulders. Before Albert could kiss him, they heard Kozumi call. Albert parted from Jet, reluctantly, and said, "Listen, Ivan is our first concern. We get him better and then get our group together and comfortable again. After that, we'll think about us and how tell the others."

"Yeah, I know." Jet slid off the rail with a dark expression and walked into the bedroom to pack.

* * *

Albert sat at the piano, attempting to pick out a tune as the night's thunder storm raged. He took another sip of wine as Frances gasped at the ferocity of the storm. He glanced over at her crocheting. It was growing into an impressive table cloth, at this point. Beside her, Jet was attempting to read his _Chilling Adventures in Sorcery_ comic book he'd picked up at the airport. Albert could tell his attention was more on the operation upstairs than the comic book. Albert cast his eyes upward, too.

"They're working on his heart right now. Incorporating a regulator," she informed them, able to hear everything through the thick stone floors.

"Hey, isn't that something you don't have? A heart regulator?" Jet asked.

"Yes. They never gave me one," she said absently crocheting. Then her face was as stormy as the outdoors. "I should be up there."

"You'd be in the way," Albert said, as compassionately as he could. She nodded and continued to knot the creamy thread into an elegant design. He started to pick out a tune he hadn't played since he was twenty-seven.

"Handel's Passacaglia?" Frances asked, a forth of the way through the song he was playing. She did so without looking up from her crocheting.

"It's not a cheery tune, but I've missed it. It used to be one of my favorites to play on the violin with... someone else... on the cello. I doubt I'll ever manage the violin again," Albert said, avoiding Jet's eyes, yet knowing he understood the 'someone else' was Hilda. He had a feeling he and Jet would still have to negotiate around the topic of Hilda; he still wore her wedding band on a chain around his neck and wasn't quite ready to take it off permanently. He was a step closer by opening his emotions up to Jet.

He threw away his cares and concerns about his mechanical arm's performance and his past, rigid studies. He played Handel's Passacaglia from the start to finish this time, giving a slightly jazz time interpretation that he would have never done in his life before the Black Ghost. He finished the last notes and turned towards Jet and Frances.

"Now that was depressing and cool. I actually liked that one," Jet said, the comic book long since discarded.

Albert gave a hearty laugh. "Sorry. I can't think of a cheery tune right now."

"It fits my mood," Frances replied.

"Ivan will come out of this fine. Relax," Jet said.

"I am..." She paused and started crocheting again after cocking her ear towards the ceiling. "They are are starting to replant his brain. This is the last part, but it'll take a long time. Hours. We should go to bed."

"Good. Soon he'll be awake." Albert turned back towards the keys and and started to pluck out a melody again. "I'm not ready, but go turn in if you want."

Frances put up her crochet and left them alone. Jet did something unexpected. He sat beside Albert and asked, "So was this hard to learn?"

"It took years to become excellent, and minutes to lose it all." Albert regretted his bitter tone so he forced a smile and slammed down the wood cover over the keys. "Let's get some sleep."

"Sure," Jet answered, looking as if he had just been castigated, but unsure what to do.

Albert laid his arm around Jet's shoulders and whispered, "Have patience with me. I have some pain, still, just as you have."

Jet nodded, pulled Albert up by his wrist, and they went back to the cellar with their miserable cots. Albert moved their cots close after glancing to make sure the door to the cellar was locked.

Albert watch Jet instantly fall asleep after falling on his cot, clinging onto Albert's metallic, right fist. Albert stroked aside some of Jet's bewitching, scarlet hair and took a deep breath. He had a feeling things with Jet wouldn't be smooth in the future, but he was ready to try.

He heard a thunder clap distantly. It brought Ivan back to his mind. He gave a silent prayer the doctors were able to piece his body back together, along with his mind.

* * *

"We haven't heard from you, Mrs. Kitagawa. There was a report yesterday morning that disturbed me," Scar said. The stunning woman stood from her place at the long conference table. Her son, the spitting image of her, remained seated, but held up his head high and proud.

"Laboratory Five was broken into. According to the video surveillance and Doctor Lucas, it was two of the Double Zero Cyborgs: 004 and 002. They destroyed several guardian robots and stole ten of the computer chips meant for the new set of Double Zero Cyborgs. It's a major set back."

"One we need to recover from quickly. What are your plans?"

"I've already ordered an increase in production with the other six laboratories. Also, I'd recommend looking into a better guardian robot design. To make up for the set back, I've already sold some Shimamura assets. We'll be using the funds towards making new computer chips."

"This set back doesn't please me, but it seems you're already starting to recover. Well done, Mrs. Kitagawa. Your fellow Merchants of Death could learn a lesson," Scar said, and she sat back down, appearing demure. Fyodor Gamo knew it was an act, though. Erika said that her brain, and that of her brother and son's brain were peculiar, a likely genetic malformation to Fyodor's educated guess. The empathy centers didn't function as they should. Erika could appreciate it; she didn't have to tune out static, as she put it.

Scar then turned to Doctor Gamo, who was seated beside him. "Alright, now we've heard from all the Merchants, it's time to hear from the Black Ghost researchers. As you know, I haven't assigned anyone as Lead Researcher since that treacherous Gilmore left with the first batch of rebels. That's changed. Doctor Gamo is now in charge of the Black Ghost. So, I'll let him explain our timetable."

"Thank you, Lord Scar. As you know, we've decided to not recreate the original rebel cyborgs' models. We've decided go with fresher ideas. Ideas that technological advances will make possible within the next ten years. I present to you the Second Generation Double Zero Cyborgs. From now on, the rebels will be referred to as the First Generation and will be disposed of in due time. Here are the designs for 005 through 008."

With that, Doctor Gamo turned off the lights with a remote and cycled through a slide show. Blueprints and general information were presented about each new cyborg. The first model in the second set, 005, was to have superhuman strength; 006 was to be a fire breather. The future 007's plans were tricky. He was to be a shape-shifting spy, but the technology was still lacking. The last, 008, was a submersible model, able to withstand incredible cold and pressure.

Pleased murmurs arose when the lights came on. Gamo smiled and offered to take questions from the assembled Merchants of Death. One of the few that didn't seem pleased jumped from his chair and demanded, "We want a clear timetable! I don't want to feel like I'm throwing away my money on another set of cyborgs that'll run off."

Gamo's smile turned to a scowl. "We predict summer of 1981, and there will be voluntary recruiting. That's only a mere seven years, if we can get more funding."

"Yes, and what about the original investment! They're still out there, harassing us at every turn. Last year they burnt down my house after stealing a stash of gold!"

"We plan on sending the Second Generation after the First Generation when they're finished. Be patient, Sir. We have to deal with the fact that my son is one of them. He has grown very powerful. To claim them properly, we must make sure we send in a set of powerful cyborgs!"

"I thought your woman would have gotten him back by now! Isn't she training someone to deal with him?"

Gamo's eyes were fiery; he never tolerated disrespect towards Erika. He replied through clenched teeth, "My _wife_ will be responsible for getting him back, all in due time! As far as Ann, she's developing her talents at a steady rate, so her abilities won't fail her if she's the one who must face Ivan. You're underestimating my son's power."

"Gentlemen, no need to argue. The timetable is acceptable. It gives us time to restructure our administrative branch and gain more influence in countries around the world. We all are working for the same goal. Let's do our parts and make Black Ghost world control a reality."

* * *

"Junior! Did you finish mending the fence?"

He looked up from the corral over towards where Jed Cody stood on the front porch of the bunk house. Junior removed his hat and wiped his arm across his sweaty forehead. "Not yet. Need more nails," he called back.

The man disappeared to the barn and came out with a bucket a few moments later. He sat the bucket down beside Junior. He reached in the bucket for more nails as Jed got his own hammer from his overalls. They proceeded to finish fixing two rails and straightening out a crooked post.

"I swear, I'm selling that crazy mustang. I'm tired of fixing this dad-blamed fence every time he gets a notion to run off."

"He's not a bad horse. Just young."

"He about broke your neck along with this fence! Good thing you're a big feller and could take that fall. You're one of the best hands I got; I ain't losing you because Thunder gets agitated."

Junior didn't reply. The man wasn't very laid back, but his anger usually blew over quickly. Finally, they finished repairing the fence. The old man stretched to the sky and slapped Junior on the shoulder.

"Time for some grub. Martha made an apple pie this morning. Your favorite, Junior, and she won't take no for an answer."

Junior didn't like to turn down a dinner invitation from his boss. Martha, Jed's wife, was a great cook and also from the same tribe as him: Navajo. Jed was a mix of European decent, but he frequently hired Navajos to work on his expansive ranch. Enjoyable work was hard to find for an eighteen year old Navajo that only had an opportunity for an eighth grade education. Especially, a type of work where he could savor traditional Navajo food occasionally.

Junior picked up the bucket and followed his boss. They put up the tools and washed up at a water pump in the front yard of the cream colored farmhouse with a few clucking chickens by the porch. Right on time, Martha Cody came out to the front pouch and waved at them.

"That smells great!" Jed called out.

"Mutton and hominy," she called back. They went into the small house and sat at table. Jed blessed the food and invited Junior to dig in. "So Junior, did you hear about that new show? That... carnival show?"

He glanced up to see Martha's face had a disapproving scowl. Jed chimed in, "It's that no good, snake, Two-Feathers Yazzie. He's been stirring things up for years. He thinks creating an old-fashioned Wild West show will bring him tons of cash, but it ain't so! One hundred years too late. This is 1974, dad-nabb-it! All it does is disrespect the Navajo. He's selling out his own people! You mark my words, anyone who joins is going to lose their dignity."

"He's using peoples' desperation. So many Navajo are out of work, and he's offering them a lot of money," Martha explained softly. Junior could tell they were both upset, but her frail health required more calm. Junior wished his boss wouldn't get so loud around Martha any more.

"Maybe I should go talk to them. Chief Overturff?" Jed mused.

"He won't listen. He's just as desperate," Junior pointed out.

Jed let out a loud sigh. "Well, you won't go running off to that Wild West show, at least. Even if you had no job here, you wouldn't go?"

"No. It's offensive and disrespectful. I wouldn't mind sharing our culture, but not selling it out for money."

"Well, good for you, Junior," Martha said. "I'll get you some pie."

* * *

Chang Ko examined the elaborate food he'd prepared for several officials from Chairman Mao's cabinet. His dishes had earned him certain fame at the young age of thirty-three among the Party's elite, and he enjoyed more privileges than most in the lean times happing throughout China. Of course, those weren't discussed, just observed.

He placed the steaming dishes on a cart. He glanced over towards the back door that thumped open with a loud bang. He wiped his hands seeing it was Wing Li. "Where have you been?" Chang demanded, irritated his brand new sous chef had disappeared.

"Old Mister Yang showed up. He's furious with you... still..."

"Old Mister Yang should have thought about his job before running off and getting drunk every time I needed him," Chang explained. "Besides, I don't have time to deal with him. Chairman Mao's cabinet is here. If they're impressed, they'll recommend me to Chairman Mao. Now, get the kitchen clean while I go serve."

With that order and a sense of pride swelling in his chest, Chang shoved the cart towards the dinning room. He kept his eyes lowered from the banquet table, but lifted them when he heard Yang's voice, little above a whisper. The man who Yang whispered to was an official of Chairman Mao's, and his face was growing more unpleasant.

The official stood, glaring at Chang; Yang wore a triumphant expression. "You have insulted our dear leader. This man has told me what you've said behind closed doors."

"Older Mister Yang was dismissed for drunkenness, a crime against the People," Chang explained, wondering what lies Yang told about him.

"Seize them both! We'll get to the bottom of this at the police station," the official bellowed. Before Chang knew it, two bodyguards of Mao's officials had him by the arms and were dragging him from his restaurant.

He counted himself lucky by that night. He was being shipped out to the country for 're-education' on a farm. Yang never made it out of the police station.

* * *

"Cheers to you, Great Britain. Your performance was beyond all expectations," the director of London's most popular play called out. He stood at the head of the large banquet table and lofted his wine glass towards the actor at the other end of the table. Applause around the table broke out and GB got to his feet. After giving a slight bow to his director, he lofted his scotch glass and flashed him a brilliant smile.

"This is going to be a good, long run. _Coriolanius _is quite a challenge, one I'm throughly enjoying. This vehicle will propel me to American shores; hopefully, Hollywood soon."

"Here, here!" shouts when up from the crowded table. GB took a big swig from his glass, enjoying the slight buzz. He looked over towards his right at the empty chair. He bit down his annoyance at his girlfriend, Sophie, and flopped back into his own chair.

Conversations broke out around him, many admirers vied for his attention. Most were young ladies and he didn't fail to give them proper attention. It took his mind off of his cooling relationship with Sofie for a few hours.

Several glasses of scotch later, he wandered to his apartment, not really wanting to arrive. He fumbled around for his keys in his pocket, a little too tipsy to keep hold of them. He swore at them after they hit the ground in front of his door. As he bent over to retrieve them, his head swirling, the door swung open. He looked up, but had to catch himself from falling over. It was Sofie standing there, looking worried.

GB straightened up and fixed her was an her with a hostile glare. "Where have you been? Didn't you remember the dinner tonight? For the opening of _Coriolanius_?"

"Come in! You'll wake the neighbors up," she hissed, blushing brightly. GB stumbled in and plopped down on the sofa. It was new, along with the wallpaper. Now that he was becoming more famous, he could afford some of the nicer things.

Sofie pulled up an overstuffed ottoman and proceeded to remove GB's dress shoes. "Where were you anyway? You weren't at the performance, either?" he asked as she finished tugging off his shoes.

"I had an appointment this afternoon I had to keep. I had some thinking to do tonight," she said, standing up. She headed to the kitchen and came back with tea and cookies. "There's something I have to tell you."

GB suppressed his irritation and took a sip of his tea. "Well, go on. I'm listening," he prompted when she seemed to freeze up.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted out. Her face was joyful, but he could tell she was nervous by her trembling shoulders. His pleasant buzz drifted away. He felt as if he had been punched in the gut when his alcohol soaked brain processed the meaning of her words.

He set aside his tea on the coffee table and glared at her. "I thought we had an agreement."

"We did, but I guess things didn't go as planned. Besides, you're thirty-eight. Isn't it time we settled down, anyway? A baby is a good reason."

Irritation flared to the surface. "I haven't met my goals of getting to Hollywood, yet. You knew that was the plan: Hollywood first, then we'd see about a wedding and a baby. This really puts my plans in a bind."

"No, you see, you can still work as an actor. I'll take in some more seamstress work. We'll manage. You'll see, it'll turn out fine," she said.

GB crossed his arms and snorted. "We'll be broke again, Sofie! I can't afford to take care of a child."

"Please, just sleep on it, love. I know the idea will grow on you," Sofie said, before bustling out of the room. Panic started to set in after she left the room. GB knew if Sofie would have his child, his acting career would be finished. Actors only became family men after they'd made it big. Also, he knew Sofie would stop tolerating his occasional philandering, and his constant tavern crawling would be cut off.

He gave a light kick to the coffee table and mulled over what to do. He still wasn't married to Sofie. There was no contract, so he could quietly break up with her. She might get him on paternity, but he could leave and get away to American after _Coriolanius_ came to a close.

He sighed and leaned forward, elbows resting on knees. His mind thought back to that first picnic date with Sofie by the riverside. The memory of her lovely eyes pricked his conscious. No, he'd have to find a way to keep his career on fire and take care of a new family. A child would mean the world to her, and he knew it. He clenched his fists and vowed to find a way, for Sofie's sake.

* * *

Pyunma's youngest sister, Anan, finished mending their father's khaki shirt and held it up for inspection in the dawn light. He smiled at the girl and took the shirt from her. "I'll take this to father. Why don't you go help mother with the breakfast?"

"Okay, but don't take too much time. Mother gets irritated," Anan warned before scampering off towards their lodge on the other side of the encampment. Pyunma picked up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder before going over the warriors' lodge towards the west. He pushed aside the brightly patterned cloth covering the doorway and let his eyes adjust to the darkness.

"Pyunma! There you are," his father, Kwabena, stood with some of the older men from their tribe. There was a high tension in the room. Voices were quiet, but angry. Everywhere Pyunma looked there was nothing but scowls, even on his father.

He handed the shirt to his father. His father took the shirt and put it on. "I want you to go back to your mother's lodge and wait for me."

"But, Father, you promised I could go with you this time," Pyunma reminded him.

"Hush, boy. Do as I say."

"I'm sixteen. I'm a man now and should be allowed to be in the hunting party," Pyunma insisted softly with averted eyes. He wanted to show his father respect, but he was the oldest teen in his tribe not included on a regular bases in the hunting parties. He spotted two others who were only fourteen gearing up for the hunt.

His father's face turned stormy. He yanked Pyunma with him to the outdoors. He shook Pyunma slightly and got into son's face. "I told you, our enemies are out there, hunting, too. You need to stay home and guard your mother and sisters."

"That's why I want to go! How am I to maintain my fight skills if I'm left behind to watch after the women?"

"It's important, Pyunma. You're one of the best warriors I've ever seen. I'm proud of you, but you need to stay behind."

"Father, please let me go with you."

Kwabena's face softened and he put his hand's on Pyunma's shoulders. "I understand, but we need a skilled warrior to stay and raise up new warriors if we lose to our enemies. Someone needs to stay and carry on the traditions of our ancestors. You are that person. You're the most trustworthy and respectful. I have faith in you. That's why you must remain behind."

"I understand," he said, after steadying his emotions and feeling a surge of pride at his father's trust. "I won't let you down."

"Good. Now get going."

Pyunma almost turned to leave after his father went back into the lodge. Instead, he crept around to the side and listened through the wood planks. There were angry grumbles and talk of murdering the rival tribe to the north, encroaching deeper into their hunting lands. Tensions were escalating, and no peace was in sight.

Pyunma ran off toward home, knowing now his father went to make war, not hunt. Anger flared in Pyunma's heart; he was good, and he could be of real use to his father if he were going to provoke a fight. He shook off his anger and ran faster towards his mother's lodge. His father was right to leave him behind, if the rival tribe decided to retaliate, there would be too many vulnerable people.

* * *

Frances gripped her hands tighter, eyes riveted to Ivan's inert body on the operating table in the upper laboratory of the Sicilian villa. Gilmore took out the last tube from Ivan's arm; he then gave him a shot in the arm. Gilmore stepped aside and smiled.

"Don't worry, 003. He'll wake soon, good as new."

"He looks so... odd," she mumbled.

"Yeah... I was getting used to him looking older, suddenly. Now he looks younger than me again," Jet said, leaning over the bed. "Creepy."

"I told you, my formula can only be used up to a point. Pushing him back towards an adult just wasn't going to work, no matter what I tried," Dressler said.

"When will he wake up?" Albert asked.

"Should be..." Kozumi started, but Ivan stirred on the table.

"Now!" Kaminari finished with glee.

Ivan took a large gasp of air. His hand moved lazily towards his mouth. His eyes fluttered open. Frances noticed both his eyes were blue, now, when he focused on her. He said something weakly, his eyes drooped close.

"What did you say? Ivan?" she asked.

"He said it was nice to see you again, and he's very hungry," Gilmore translated from Russian. Ease and delight filled Frances. She jogged downstairs to make Ivan breakfast.

To be continued


	32. Chapter 32

To start with, I put up this little genealogy graph for Joe's family. Just for fun and information and so you can see around the bend when Joe comes along. Just a little peak, Joe's going to be raised by Ryu Kitagawa through some twisted events.

Second of all, I was thrilled to finally get to the Second Generation in the last chapter. It was a fun glimpse into their lives that's going to explain why they get desperate and fall for Scar's lies- Van Bogart will be introduced into the story next chapter. I hope you enjoyed some of the Second Generation background.

After this chapter there will be anther big leap to the Eighties and then you'll see Pyunma and his crew duke it out with Albert and his crew. Joe will come along a little later.

PS- for all my movie night buddies, Frannie's closet gets an honorable mention in this chapter!

_ Riku Shimamura – Susami Yagami Shimamura_

_ ._

_ ._

_ ._

_Hondo Kitagawa – Hitomi Shimamura Kitagawa ... Takuma Shimamura – _

_ Sakura Iko Shimamura_

_. ._

_ . ._

_ . ._

_ Ryu Kitagawa Akira Shimamura - Jenny Littles Shimamura_

_ ._

_ ._

_ ._

_ Joseph (Jyo / Joe) Shimamura_

Chapter 32:

Frances shivered when Ivan levitated the bowl of oatmeal from her hands to his lap. He looked over towards her and said what she understood was 'thank you' in Russian. She sat on the edge of his bed and asked, "Do you not remember how to speak French? Or use your telepathy?"

_:Some telepathy, not as easy as telekineses. Lots of effort. Must rest.: _His mental voice sounded softly in Frances' head. She patted his free hand and smiled.

"You rest. Don't worry about anything."

Ivan started eating, pausing to rub his left eye from time to time. She worried, seeing how bloodshot it was around its new, blue color. Rather than pester him, she left his room and went back downstairs.

She felt Albert and Jet's eyes on her as she sat across from them in a red velvet chair. "He's very, very tired. We have to let him recover some."

"Let's hope the Black Ghost doesn't show up before he recovers," Albert said.

"It'd be our luck," Jet said, getting mopey.

"Bite your tongue. We can take care of him for a while. Besides, they've been silent for ten years. Could it be that the Merchants of Death are all that's left? Maybe we're free." Frances said.

"Don't count on it, sister," Jet said, with a cynical snort.

"Can't you think positive for once?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm positive those goons are still out there plotting to take over the world. Why else are the Merchants of Death still around? To fund the Black Ghost."

"Jet is right. We do need to keep up our guard until we know both organizations are finished," Albert interrupted. "We need to lay low for a while and not raid any more Merchants of Death until Ivan is fully recovered. Jet, you're working season is going to start next week. Why don't you go back..."

"Because I don't want to. Time for a job change," he announced abruptly, to Frances' consternation.

"But..."

"Nope, I'm bored."

"Well what are you going to do? Lay about?" Frances snapped.

"Don't know yet, but I know I don't want run numbers any more. Maybe flying planes again. Or something a little more exciting," he said, getting a gleam in his eye she didn't trust.

"Albert..." Frances turned towards the older man.

"Jet can make his own choices. If he's bored, he can find new employment," Albert replied with coolness.

Frances grew miffed, hopped out of the chair, and marched to the kitchen. She muttered, "Men," under her breath. She was irritated that Albert, who was usually reasonable, seemed willing to humor Jet's flighty behavior. It was a switch that baffled her. She relied on Albert's steady nature and good judgment; letting Jet quit his job on a whim wasn't what Frances expected of him.

* * *

"Hey! Junior! Wait up!" Two-Feathers Yazzie called from across the dusty Fredonia, Arizona street. Junior slid the large sack of feed off his shoulder and into the truck bed before he turned towards the skinny, older man.

Two-Feathers jogged over and smacked Junior on the upper arm. It was a too friendly gesture Junior didn't appreciate. "I see you're still working for old man Cody."

"It's good work, honest work," Junior replied, with narrowed eyes.

"Back breaking work, too. Listen, there's an opening in my show. I could really use a big guy like you. You have this intimidating look about you that would draw those eastern city-slickers right in."

"Forget it," Junior said, crossing his arms.

"There's money to be had from all the white tourists coming to visit The Canyon."

"Let them enjoy the nature for free."

"Stop being so uppity, kid. You think you're better than the rest of us because you got a job with the Codys? Bah... that'll dry up one day. Cody is as old as that damn hole in the ground, and his wife is in failing health. At least, that's the word around town." Two-Feathers sneered. "She's not one of us any more, marrying outside of the tribe. If you're thinking he's going to leave you a thing, think again. He's got kin out east."

"Back off," Junior warned. "I'm not going to embarrass myself like some of the others. As far as the Codys, at least they're living honest, simple lives. Unlike you."

"Fine! You'll be sorry when Cody kicks the bucket!"

Junior controlled the urge to punch the scrawny shyster. He jumped into the dilapidated truck's cab and drove south out of Fredonia towards the Codys' ranch. He took several deep breaths and let his anger flow out. Two-Feathers had finally got a wild west show together several months ago and had been exploiting a lot of people Junior's age, older teens, that had bleak employment opportunities. What made Junior angry, still, was how readily people he grew up with wouldn't hold out hope and would cheapen themselves and their culture for money. At the same time, he felt pity for them.

After he mused on how to approach some of his childhood friends, he pulled up in front of the farmhouse. Confusion hit, seeing two police cars and a large, black sedan. He got out of the truck and watched Doctor Watson come out the farmhouse.

He wasn't surprised, but that didn't stop the dread when the man walked up, shaking his head. "Junior, sorry, but Martha... she passed an hour ago."

* * *

Chang continued to hoe the dry, cracked ground. He repressed the despair rising in him at the horrible condition of the soil. He took a moment and wiped his calloused hands on his rough trousers. He took his large straw hat off and mopped his sweaty brow. He'd been here for months, and there was no end in sight.

His eyes darted around for a minute at the other people stranded at the re-education farm with him. There were bent and broken people all around him with colorless expressions and drab clothing. None of them knew when they were due to go back home, and they seldom knew what lead to them to being assigned to farm at Jinhe.

"Hey! Prisoner! Back to work," the Party worker shouted out across the field. Chang put his hat back on and continued to hoe the ground.

Jinhe was only a few years old, so the conditions weren't as bad as some, according to the people stranded with Chang. He believed them and didn't want to find out personally. Therefore, he kept quiet and respectful. He was careful who he talked to as well; there were too many people willing to snitch on each other for a shot at freedom. There wasn't much in the way of friendship or trust among the others at Jinhe, which did more to depress Chang than the hard labor.

One day, he dreamed of getting back to Shanghai and back to professional cooking and creating a lot of honest friendships. He continued to dream and look for an opportunity to work his way back into the good graces of the Party. Even though, he admitted, he never heard of anyone granted forgiveness.

* * *

"Mister Britain, but Miss Meriwether had complications. She'll have a full recovery with time. The baby girl is nice and healthy," the obstetrician delivered the news with bright smile. GB looked up from where he sat in the hospital's lobby, a numbing shock hit him. He was now a father.

He stood and said, "Can I see Sofie?"

"She's resting right now. Maybe in the morning," The obstetrician shifted from foot to foot and then asked, "Would you like to see your daughter?"

GB rolled the word 'daughter' around in his mind for a few minutes. Just yesterday Sofie was happily getting ready for the baby, now the baby was here. He nodded and followed after the obstetrician. Eventually, they ended up in front of the nursery's wide picture window. A nurse rolled a cradle up to the window and GB looked down and flinched.

"Why is she crying like that?" he asked, shocked how red the tiny baby was as she squalled. The pink blanket only intensified the deep red of her face.

"She's quite fine. Don't be alarmed. By the way, did your lady friend have a name picked out for her?"

"Oh... we thought we'd wait see what the baby looked like before deciding." He slowly smiled at the tiny girl, a warmth and pride flooded his chest. "I think Rose would be a good name, seeing how red she is. And to quote the Great Bard: _What's in a name? That which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet._"

* * *

Pyunma looked over the young boys in front of his village and shook his head. "You'll never get very far with that kind of technique," he gently chided them. "Why don't you all go home and get some dinner."

The young boys didn't need to be told twice. He chuckled watching them scamper to their mothers' lodges after combat training. He walked towards his own mother's lodge, but paused by the water spigot out front. He then rinsed his face and hands in the warm water.

He spotted his mother, Ife, coming around from behind their home. She was carrying a basket filled with fresh vegetables. Her face was still saddened from several months without word about his father.

He went over and took the burden from her and asked, "Where are the girls?"

"Visiting the hospital lodge. They're preparing dinner for the elderly." They went into Ife's lodge. Pyunma lit the fire and sat in front of it. His mother was preparing to stew vegetables when she said, "So, I watched you with the youngsters today. You're a great teacher, very kind and patient with them."

Pyunma nodded and smiled. "Just like Father."

Ife's expression clouded over with misery. "It's been months. Too long."

"He'll be back soon, Mother. Going on the hunt can take a while."

Her eyes gave him a cutting look. "I know your father went to war, not a hunt. You can stop lying to me. Just don't let you sisters know."

He looked down to his knees, shamefaced he'd been lying to his mother all that time. He forced a smile and said, "He'll be back soon, Mother. Have faith."

Ife nodded and finished the dinner preparations. His three sisters, one older than him, two younger, came in full of gossip and giggles. Ngozi, who was eighteen, had come back to live with them because her husband was out with the rest of the men. Pyunma could tell her husband, Mamado, hadn't let her know their truth behind the hunt. She'd be weeping and wailing, otherwise, like other new brides whose husbands went off to danger. Then again, Mamado was his best friend and he hadn't mentioned it to Pyunma, either.

Rudo, fourteen, and Anan, ten, liked having their sister back home because she was the village gossip. Pyunma found himself irritated by Ngozi's presence because she tried to act as a second mother towards him. She hadn't even had her first child, so Pyunma was doubly offended when she came back to his mother's lodge and started ordering him around like a wayward child.

"Girls! Enough with the chatter. Time to eat."

"Did you wash up, Pyunma?" Ngozi asked.

"Yes I did!" he snapped, not wishing to bicker with her in front of their mother, who was so worried.

"You don't talk to me like that. Sit up straight already. Look at your clothes. Filthy as usual. You should consider Rudo will have more to do when she does your laundry tomorrow."

"Ngozi, stop criticizing Pyunma! He's worked hard all day."

"More like playing war with children," Rudo smarted off, picking up Ngozi's attitude.

"Rudo, you apologize now!"

"Fine... sorry," she said, sulking. They gathered at the family's table. Rudo shot Pyunma dirty looks over the stew; he ignored her and gave smug Ngozi a few dirty looks of his own. After they were finished, he left the lodge, ignoring Ngozi's demanding questions.

He went to the warriors' lodge and sat on a bench. Old rifles laid at his feet. He took his time cleaning each one and making sure each was in perfect order. He had a nervous feeling, in spite of what he'd told his mother. It had been too long of a time for his father to be gone.

* * *

"No, really. Stay with Ivan. We can handle everything," Albert insisted, while packing one suitcase with his clothes; Jet had already packed the night before. Frances noted Jet's anxiousness, he seemed desperate to take off to Switzerland again. She asked about it, but he shrugged her off.

Frances rose from a chair in the corner and started pacing. "Are you sure? There's so much to do and arrange."

"We'll find a buyer for the chalet in no time. It shouldn't take us too long to pack our things and ship them here." Albert closed the suitcase just as Jet joined them from up stairs.

"Don't worry, we won't go through your skivvies," Jet said, and then chuckled at her glare.

"I can't believe you. You still haven't figured what you're going to do for a living, have you?"

"It's not like we don't have tons of money and all the time in the world. I'll figure out something when I'm good and ready," Jet insisted.

"I hope Albert talks some sense into while you're there," Frances said, marching upstairs.

Her sharp hearing caught Jet, mumbling and a sly, "You'll be talking to me while we're there, but it probably won't be about what she thinks. I have a topic of conversation."

"She might be listening to you, so you better keep what you're about to say to yourself," Albert reminded him. "Let's get to the airport."

Frances' brow furrowed and she ducked into the kitchen to avoid them. She hoped when they got back from Switzerland, they'd get back to behaving like they did before Ivan was revived.

* * *

Junior stood in the hallway of a Phoenix courthouse; he'd been waiting since morning to talk to the probate judge. Jed and Martha Cody's will was being contested by a distant cousin from somewhere on the east coast. Jed had passed soon after Martha, and Junior had maintained the ranch since it was left to him. Now, seven months later, he was fighting to hold on to it. The cousin, Kevin Cody, had plans for developing the land. Junior knew Jed wouldn't approve.

The ranch was so close to the Grand Canyon, that it was a prime piece of land that Kevin wanted to put a resort on. Rather than an old fashioned 'dude ranch' where Junior could still care for livestock, Kevin wanted all the modern luxuries and to sell part of it for a shopping center. The natural beauty would be destroyed, and so Junior had taken to fighting for what was deeded to him in the Codys' will.

"The judge will see you now," the blond, female clerk said. Junior moved forward, seeing Kevin Cody out of the corner of his eye. He didn't say anything to the man because their negotiations had grown bitter.

They sat in front of the huge mahogany desk where Judge Franklyn sat. Lots of paper work littered the stern judge's desk. He put his glasses on and announced, "I met both of your lawyers this morning. We think we worked out a fair compromise concerning the Cody ranch. The southern and western portion will revert to Mr. Cody. Mr. Geronimo will retain the north and east portions. We've had the maps drawn, which both lawyers agreed to. The paperwork will be sent to your lawyers for each of you to sign." The judge stood up and nodded to each of them. "Good luck, gentlemen."

"Thanks," Kevin said, getting up and shaking Judge Franklyn's hand. Junior did likewise, extremely disappointed, but he'd expected it. The Codys' will had a loophole that Kevin's lawyers had exploited.

Out in the hallway, Kevin Cody thrust out his hand towards Junior. Junior didn't miss the frown on Kevin's face; he was disappointed too. Junior shook hands with the man, coolly.

"You know, when you decide to sell, I'll give you a fair price," Kevin said. Junior just shook his head and turned to leave. All the money in the world couldn't convince him to let the land be blighted by modern society. No matter how lean times became, Junior was determined to make a success and try to buy out Kevin before development started.

* * *

Chang and several other re-education prisoners were kneeling on the ground. Many fake tears flowed around the farm and the farm's guards made sure everyone was mourning properly. The news of Mao's death came in the morning, so all were required to morn.

Chang knelt on the ground and dredged up fake tears, lest he get beat. In his heart, though, he was elated. At one time, he'd admired Mao, but now he knew the truth about his regime. It wasn't in his nature to harbor hatred and anger, so Chang concentrated on hope that he'd leave. With the news of Mao's death, he hoped that a chance to leave would come soon.

* * *

"Not again..." GB groaned and turned over in bed. His clock read 2:30. The new baby, Rose, certainly cried more than he thought possible. He felt Sofie leave the bed and creep out of their bedroom. Soon the baby was silent and GB started to drift back to sleep.

He was jolted back awake, again, at Rose's cries around 4:45. He realized Sofie hadn't even come back to bed yet. He rolled over and pulled a pillow over his head. There was a casting call at 9:00 am sharp, and he really needed the work. He hadn't been able to work for two months now; Sofie and Rose had needed his help. But it was time for him to get back to work, he was anxious to hear thunderous applause once again.

It was five in the morning when Rose was calmed down, and Sofie came back to bed. She snuggled in and moved closer to GB. "I'll make breakfast in an hour."

He patted her arm and took her by the hand. "You're a dream, my dear."

"I know you'll get that part. Don't worry."

GB didn't voice his doubts. This was a big step, because his casting call was for a new television show called _Porridge. _The steady work was really needed. Besides, if he could get onto the BBC, then Hollywood could be around the corner.

"It has to come through," GB said.

"If you get this part, you can then make an honest woman of me," she hinted in a drowsy voice.

GB felt a brief surge of guilt. She'd been so patient with him, even had his child, but he kept the marriage issue off the table. It wasn't that he didn't love her and want to take care of her. It was a scary commitment to make when his career was still full of highs and lows and not as stable as he'd like. He mentally promised to get her a ring if he ended up on the BBC.

* * *

"Mamado is back!" Anan shouted after bursting into Ife's lodge. Pyunma leaped up and jogged outside. His close friend, and brother-in-law, was being balanced in between Ngozi and Rudo. Both of whom were sobbing.

"What happened?" Pyunma demanded, taking over from Rudo. He ordered his younger sister to go tell their mother.

Mamado's eyelids fluttered open after Rudo ran off. "The war. Didn't work. Mwanba is lost to us."

"Mwanba is not lost. We're a strong nation," Pyunma said as they got to the hospital tent.

"What are you talking about? War?" Ngozi asked, through her tears. "You've been gone for months on end. Where have you really been?"

"At war. With our enemies to the north. Too strong."

"Where is my father?" Pyunma asked, helping him into one of the twenty cots, most of which were occupied.

"We were separated when Unbaba's men ambushed us."

"Unbaba? You went against that butcher trying to take over Mwanba? You're lucky to be alive!" Pyunma said, helping his sister get Mamado stripped down so they could treat his wounds.

"How could you?" Ngozi said. "You lied to me!"

"You wouldn't have wanted your new husband to go make war. If I told you, you'd file a grievance to the tribal council since we haven't had a child yet. They'd make me stay home until you have a child, and Mwanba can't wait. Unbaba is taking over quicker than you know."

Pyunma stood aside and let Ngozi and an American missionary-doctor take over treating Mamado's injuries. He quickly went back to his mother's lodge where the girls were crying and clinging to his teary-eyed mother. She asked, "How is Mamado?"

"He'll recover."

"Did he know anything about your father?"

"No, they were separated. The bad part is that Unbaba showed up with his army," Pyunma broke the news.

"You mean thugs? They're no warriors. Oh why did your father have to be such a fool!" Ife said, holding her sobbing daughters tighter.

"I must go find Father," Pyunma said softly. That made Anan wail louder as she launched herself into Pyunma's arms.

"No! Don't go!" she begged.

"Anan, I must."

"I forbid it," Ife said. Pyunma's heart sank. "If Unbaba is on his way, we need you. Your father is smart and brave. He will find a way to return when Unbaba is dealt with. You must have faith in him."

Pyunma lowered his head, shamefaced. It would dishonor his father to leave the village. "I'll be in the warrior's lodge, making plans. I'll be home for dinner."

With a heavy heart, and worry about his family, he started to take stock of the weapons in the warriors' lodge.

* * *

"I'm going to hate going back," Jet griped in English as he sat on one of the wood trunks with Frances' knick-knacks in it. Albert poked his head out of Frances' closet.

"We only got this place and... would you get back to work?" He tossed a glittered, silk skirt and a matching leotard at him. Jet caught them and went over to her bed where several garment bags lay.

He held up the outfit and said, "Dames! What do they need all these frilly... fru-fru... clothes for?"

"They like to look attractive to men. It's all apart of their mystery," Albert answered from somewhere deep in her closet. He reappeared and tossed a red velvet outfit with cream colored sleeves and gold trim. Jet caught it and proceeded to put the outfits in bags. "These are being returned to her dance troupe, so make sure they're neat."

Albert emerged with a box jammed full of shoes. Jet whistled. "You gotta be kiddin'?"

"Well, we've stayed put for a long time. We're all bound to start collecting things again. Besides..." Albert gave Jet a smirk. "...I won't complain when we pack up all your comic books."

"Yeah, yeah... I know. I didn't think I had so many," Jet admitted, sheepishly. "So, I'm sorry you had to give Gertrude back."

"I knew that was coming when I quit. She'll be happier staying in the mountains."

"I'm glad you're quitting, too. It feels like we have a world of possibilities in front of us. You realize we can do anything we want? We're free to roam."

Albert nodded. "Freedom is certainly something none of us take for granted. It's not absolute in our case. We still have Frances, Ivan, and our loyal doctors to consider. Also, any hotbeds that may contain political conflicts that could have been started by the Black Ghost need to be avoided. Start getting her sheets and pillows together, will you? Then, we have to meet the purchaser of the chalet by noon."

Jet groaned and flopped on Frances' frilly, pink pillows. "Albert, I hate dealing with stuff for squares."

"If you mean 'adult stuff,' no need in complaining. We both signed the lease."

"Yeah, that was before the Black Ghost laid low, and we were afraid only one of us could be left to take care of Frannie and Ivan."

"I know. I still think it's a good idea for us to spread out our interests, like the bank accounts, until the Black Ghost is gone. I don't want to leave you three without if..."

"Shut up, Albert! I ain't letting you get all bummed out. Especially, since it's just the two of us for a while. We can enjoy ourselves some without a ton of people that can listen in."

"Fine! We'll take in that new art exhibit downtown and a Mozart concert tonight." Jet groaned, causing Albert to laugh. "You had something else in mind?"

"Yeah, one thing."

"I though you may. You've been rather disciplined."

Jet gave a nettled expression. "It certainly helps having a bunch of old men crawling under foot, and I still think Ivan's going to kick my ass and then drown me in the nearest ocean when he finds out."

"We'll be on the Mediterranean, which is a sea," Albert corrected, smirking at Jet's nasty sneer.

"Oh great! You too! A geography expert who cares what type of water I get drowned in! Ivan just had to inform me it was a channel not an ocean he tossed me in. Now here you go, it'll be a sea, not an ocean. You guys need to cool it with the Poindexter act!"

"Are you finished?" Albert asked, placidly taping the last box of Frances' things from her closet closed.

"Yeah."

"Well, I'll call the purchaser and delay him until tomorrow morning over breakfast. I hope you find your way to the loft by then," Albert hinted. Albert's jaw dropped open seeing Jet disappear with a high-pitched, metallic whine. He hung his head out of Frances' bedroom door and looked up to see Jet dangling playfully over the loft's rail.

"You're a slow, old man," he called downstairs.

"And your a cheater. I'll be a minute."

* * *

Ann started awake at the soft voice in her head. She quickly slid out of her bed, threw her robe over her shoulders, and crept out of her bedroom. She listened to make sure both Gamos were in deep sleep in their room before she quietly left.

It wasn't long before she found herself in the deep, dark underground vaults on Ghost Island. She found her way by the dim, track floor lighting. She ended up kneeling in front of five, silver cryogenic caskets. It was the one in the middle, her father's, she moved closest too.

_:Ann, it's me:_

_:Where have you been, Ivan? You promised...: _She projected back, shocked to hear from him suddenly after over a year of silence.

_:I've been in cryogenic sleep, like your father, for a year. I'm so sorry. It couldn't be helped... I was... dying...:_

_:Katerina warned me, you'd die twice.:_

_ :This was once, when is the next? I need to know!:_

_ :She didn't tell me, but she said the second time... would make you so powerful... and potentially dangerous.:_

_:When?:_

_ :She didn't tell me much. She said one day that 003 would see her mortality. She will then embrace someone she shouldn't. He will betray all eight of you to the Black Ghost; that will be the time when you cannot bear to see your reflection any longer. All she said was that she loved you so much, and she wanted you to influence mankind in a positive direction, not be... cruel... like she had been. She loved you very much.:_

_ :Eight? There will be more of us?:_

_ :Yes, but there will be more than that. She told me... there will be fourteen Double Zero Cyborgs in all. She wouldn't tell me any other details.:_

_ :That's bad news.:_

_ :Ivan, please come and get me and my father soon. I'm begging you.:_ Tears started rolling down her checks at his long silence.

_:I can't. I've been warned you need to stay with my mother.: _Anger flared in her heart. She projected her emotions towards Ivan. She could feel him flinch mentally; he was still shaky on using empathy. _:I'm too weak to come and get you, anyway. Please be patient with me.: _

She heard soft steps and hushed voices. _:I must go. People are coming.:_

She felt his mind withdraw and then she darted behind the cryogenic chambers. She peeked around the edge of the Oaf's chamber to see Gaia and Uranus wheeling in more cryogenic chambers.

"I'm glad we're back home. We need to take care to not get banished again," Gaia said.

"I know. Wheel our new children over to that corner and we'll get some rest."

Ann watched them push the cryogenic chambers across the room. When they were busy with hooking up the chambers to a computer, she darted out of the room. She ran all the way back to the Gamos' apartment and crept back in quietly.

It wasn't long before she was back in her bed, rubbing at her moist cheeks. She tried to quell her anger at Ivan. If Mrs. Gamo woke up, she'd be able to tell she had spoken with Ivan. As mad as she was, Ivan was still her only hope of escape.

* * *

"We're home," Jet called out from the villa's parlor. Minutes later, Ivan walked down the stairs. At the same time, a disgruntled Albert came in lugging two suitcases.

"You could have helped me," Albert suggested, with a pointed edge to his voice.

Jet waved off Albert and turned to Ivan. "So where is Frannie? We got three big boxes of clothes."

"She went to town... And..." Ivan's right eye flashed bright blue. His face slowly went from a pleasant smile into a look of fury. "You... you... hypocrite! You lying hypocrite! After all this time I've protected what I knew about you!"

Jet felt the blood rush from his face. He knew Ivan had figured out him and Albert instantly. "Wait a minute! It's not like that! And what do you mean, you've been protecting me?"

"I knew a long time ago how you were interested in Jean-Paul, but I never told anyone. Then when I loved Frances you told me to abandon that thought for the good of our group. Then what do you do? You then pursue a relationship with Albert? Hypocrite!"

The sound of Albert dropping the suitcases startled Jet. "This is a private matter between me and Jet."

"No! It involves me! It involves Frances, too!"

Ivan's eye glowed again. Jet flew threw the air and was slammed into a wall with a loud thud. "Ivan! Stop that," Albert ordered, glaring at Ivan. "He gave you the best advice at the time! Things have changed over time. You can't hold a grudge over Frances' affections."

"I can't, hun?" Ivan asked as Jet grasped at his throat, pinned against the wall. Ivan's attitude cooled, and Jet tumbled to the floor, gasping for air. "No, I guess things have changed."

Jet got to his feet and shook his head. "I'm sorry about how things worked out, but I'm happy. Please don't begrudge me and Albert. If I could change things for you I would, but Frances is her own person."

Ivan gave a jerky nod. "Fine, but you should tell Frances."

"No! Not yet," Jet babbled. "I just... I'm not ready to let people know. Please, just keep it a secret a little longer."

Ivan shook his head in disapproval. "I'll not say anything. But secrets destroy group dynamics, too."

With that, Ivan turned and ran back upstairs. Jet turned to Albert and pointed after Ivan. "I told you so."

"You were right. This wasn't how I wanted things." Albert suddenly chuckled and then asked, "Jean-Paul?"

Heat rose to Jet's face as he clenched his fists. "Don't mention that again!"

Albert gave a slight shrug, wearing a devilish smirk. "He certainly is a handsome sort of fellow."

"I told you to not mention that again! Not another word!" With that, Jet picked up the suitcases and marched off to their shared room in the cellar, Albert's hearty laughter following him.

To be continued.


	33. Chapter 33

(I'm back. I hope everyone is doing well. Had real fun with the end part of this chapter.)

Chapter 33:

"All my tests indicate he's fine," Dressler said with a self satisfied smirk. "It's been a month since we've finished the modifications to 001, but I'll need to check him annually. Overall, I think he's clean."

"Yes, he's biologically sound," Kozumi murmured back, while studying a clipboard.

"I still think, in the end, we should have done things my way," Kaminari said, crossing his arms with a dismal pout on his face.

"It was Ivan's choice, not ours," Gilmore insisted. "We'd be no better than the Black Ghost if we took away his choice."

"True," Kaminari conceded.

"Now that this is settled, I'm going back to Columbia University. Contact me if his oncology reports change," Dressler said. "I halted his growth. It seems all I can do with humans is bring them to adolescents, not adulthood. More complex than tomatoes. Oh well... I froze Ann Ember there, too, and now him. They'll live a long time that way, but always in a child's body." He sighed and waved his hand in the air, dismissing further discussion. "I better go check on what the Black Ghost are doing."

"But you could stay and not have the Black Ghost interfere in your research," Gilmore pleaded.

"Without their support I can't continue, but..." Dressler put on his tweed jacket, "... you've given me some things to think about. I promise I won't reveal anything to the Black Ghost."

"We're relying on that promise," Gilmore reminded him. Dressler nodded and left the loft laboratory. Gilmore turned to the other two scientists and clasped his hands together. "Who's up for breakfast."

Kaminari groaned and shook his head. "And venture into the Cold War? I think I'll skip it."

"Oh come on... Jet and Ivan haven't actually bickered in a whole two days," Gilmore pointed out.

"What about my harpsichord that Ivan hurled across the room to spite Albert? Or the burn marks all over the walls when Jet was trying to escape it? Arg..." Kaminari threw his hands in the air. "What started the fight anyway? For the past month Jet and Ivan have been going at it, hammer and tongs. It's like Ivan woke up in a fit of pique!"

"What's worse is that Frances is confused over why Jet and Ivan are arguing. They won't let that poor dear know a thing. They don't even let us know, either! She's so distraught. And 004... well, he just stays silent. He knows something, that sly dog. He told me that they'd work it out, and I think they will," Kozumi said.

"Well, I hope it's before my furniture is all smashed to smithereens!" Kaminari declared, a fist in the air just as a loud crash from the kitchen and a steady stream of English curse words interrupted the rest of his declaration. The three doctors sighed and shook their heads, defeated by the hostile atmosphere.

"Well, if you don't want to eat here, let's go downtown for coffee," Gilmore suggested.

"Now that's a great idea." Kozumi said, tugging a disgruntled Kaminari with him behind Gilmore as he left via the fire escape.

* * *

"You're a whiny little brat!" Jet snarled across the table. "You did that deliberately!" He was picking up his bowl of oatmeal from his lap and trying to scoop up the steaming mess. Frances quickly came over with a dish towel while shooting Ivan a disproving look.

Albert watched Ivan's anger rise with Frances' silent chastisement. Albert knew Ivan was still jealous over Frances even though Jet had no interest in her. Whenever she sided with Jet over Ivan, it always escalated into a nasty fight. Especially, now that Ivan's age had been regressed and he looked all of fourteen again.

He imagined it was demoralizing, and emasculating, on so many levels for Ivan. That's why Albert kept out of the fights between Ivan and Jet. That, and Jet still wanted to keep his relationship with Albert a secret from Frances and the doctors. Jet was still struggling to accept himself. If Albert inserted himself in the fights his relationship with Jet would be brought out sooner than the New Yorker was comfortable with.

Albert noticed Ivan's anger cool towards malice. "And if I did do it on purpose? There is certainly nothing you can do."

Jet's jaw clenched tightly. Albert knew Jet was still a hothead, but the second time they were captured by the Black Ghost had taught Jet how to control his tongue somewhat. Albert noticed Jet's tongue trace along his scarred gums, a horrible reminder to think before talking. That was a sign Albert knew Ivan was pushing Jet over the limit.

"Listen, you little piece of chicken..."

"Jet!" Frances warned. She turned to Ivan and asked, "Now you really didn't do that on purpose, did you?"

"Yes, I did."

"Why?" she asked.

"He knows," Ivan pronounced cryptically.

Albert had overheard Ivan and Jet bickering in hushed tones in the dawn light of the courtyard. Jet wanted to go back to New York, and Albert agreed to go if Ivan and Frances came with them. Ivan refused and warned Jet not to suggest it to Frances. When Jet started humming and mumbling about 'rocket's red glare' and 'star spangled banners' at the time Frances came down to cook breakfast, it was just too much for Ivan. So Ivan made a preemptive strike and telekinetically shoved Jet's oatmeal off the table.

Frances turned her frustration on Albert, which he'd grown to expect. "Albert, will you have a conversation with these two about acting like gown men?"

Albert fought down his annoyance with her. Over the past month she'd been pestering him to be more of a father figure to Jet and Ivan rather than have any type of friendship with them. With Jet, that would be impossible and drive him away from their new physical relationship. With Ivan it would be disastrous considering his history with Doctor Gamo and his shouldering a great deal of responsibility getting them free of the Black Ghost in the first place.

"Albert!" she insisted when he went back to reading his newspaper.

"They'll sort it out," Albert said, eyes firmly planted on an article that caught his eye. It was about a man who won an election in Spain that Gilmore said was a Merchant of Death.

"No! Enough of this," Frances said, pushing his newspaper aside. "They're going to kill each other!"

"Jet is a grown man and can handle his own affairs now. Ivan, too."

"But..."

"No. Men sort out things differently than women," Albert said, cutting off her protest. He did glance over at Jet; the New Yorker was staring at Ivan with open hostility. "But I'll recommend that Ivan and Jet go outside and sort out their differences now rather than later. And I mean... all... differences."

Jet bolted from his chair, eyes still blazing with anger, and said, "Come on, twerp. Let's take this outside and have a man-to-man talk."

Ivan rose and tossed aside a napkin. "If you insist."

"And don't toss him in the Mediterranean, Ivan," Albert warned, focusing on the newspaper article again.

With that they left the kitchen and headed to the front door in silence. Frances started cleaning up the kitchen, silent and hostile. When she paused her activities, Albert set aside his newspaper and gave her his attention.

"You and Jet and Ivan all seem so different, lately. Is there something I need to know?" Frances sat at the table beside Albert.

Albert didn't feel comfortable with lying, but he also had to balance that with honoring Jet's wish for secrecy. "I've made a promise and I'm not a liberty to tell you. Just know that things are working themselves out."

She nodded, tight lipped. "I'll respect that, but are you okay? I guess I worry a bit too much."

He smiled slowly at her and patted her hand. "It'll take some time. By the way, Jet was wanting to move on, now that Ivan is stable. How would you feel about that?"

Frances bit her bottom lip subtly and wouldn't meet Albert's eyes. She rose and continued the dishes. "Let me think about that, Albert."

"Sure."

* * *

"So what's your damage, now?" Jet snapped after they climbed a grassy hill near the villa. It was a picturesque view of Palermo. The Mediterranean Sea was a crystal blue in the distance. Ivan looked towards the sea rather than Jet. That annoyed the New Yorker more. "Stopping being such a candy ass and come out with your problem man-to-man. I want to move to New York. You can't stop me and Albert from going. And Frannie needs to stick with us and will come along. So get it together!"

"We can't move back to New York. That's gone. At least, not now. Later... give it four years... I think... not sure." He rubbed furiously at his irritated left eye that would spurt a blue colored glow and then die out.

"What do you mean?"

"There's something I haven't told you or the others."

"Out with it!" Jet snapped, loosing what remained of his temper.

"There will be more of us. In the future. My aunt predicted it and told Ann. She told me by telepathy after I woke up. I haven't heard from her since."

A cold wave of dread hit Jet and washed away his anger at Ivan. "I know you said they have plans to do it, but this is for real. When?"

"I don't know. She didn't say. Anyway, clairvoyance doesn't work that way. It's like a path that you glimpse part of. No one really knows how it works, but she would have said it if she had been certain."

Jet grew concerned when Ivan's head dropped forward, it wasn't quick enough for Jet to miss Ivan's watering eyes. He felt awkward and pity at the same time. He took a deep breath and flopped down on the grass. Ivan sat beside Jet, still avoiding directly looking at him.

"Sorry you lost your aunt."

"She said my older body would be necessary in the future. It would serve a purpose and keep us safe. All it did was get me sick and put me back where I started. Where was the purpose in all that? Why? What did she mean? I lost ten years on top of it all. When I came back... you three..." Ivan shook his head ruefully and pressed his lips so tight they blanched. Jet didn't miss the note of jealousy so tangible in Ivan's tone.

"I don't know why she said what she did. I wish I did. I'm sorry we couldn't rescue her." Jet figured getting Ivan to talk about his mysterious aunt would be a good stress relief.

"She was murdered by my parents!"

Jet flinched at Ivan's bitterness. Ivan almost never spoke of his aunt and it was still unclear what had happened to her. Whatever it was, Jet figured must have been gruesome.

Jet took a deep breath and decided to avoid probing something that still shook Ivan up so badly. Besides, Albert sent him out here with Ivan for one specific task. "Out with it. Why exactly are you still sore with me?

"Because you still haven't told Frances about your relationship with Albert. It'll hurt her feelings that you've lied to her."

"What's going on with me and Al doesn't concern you. Or Frannie, for that matter."

"It does when it creates tension in our group. Can't you see how worried she is? All you do is continue to lie."

"You mean like what you're doing about what your aunt predicted?" Jet shot back, satisfied to see Ivan grow shamefaced. "You've played games with us from day one. When something doesn't go your way you manipulate things. Don't think I'm not wise to you. Ten years without you around really made me keen about some things 'bout you, Mr. Whiskey."

"You're right. I do manipulate things, but it's in everyones best interest."

"Maybe I see it in Frances' best interest to not know right now. It's complicated... it's not... well... not something people talk about. I will tell her, but when I'm ready, and I've finished sorting out things with Al. Not everything is solid between us. If I spring this on her and Al throws me over then that's a lot of mess. You see?"

"That makes sense. I agree with your thinking."

"Besides, I also think you're being a nosy Nate into Al and me because you're jealous." Jet's mocking tone brought obvious fury. Jet rose a dismissive hand in the air. "It's obvious."

Ivan cooled down and nodded. "Yes, very much so. I still have feelings for Frances."

"Things will work out in our group just fine. Always have. But you're going to have to tell Al about what your aunt told you."

"I know. Otherwise, I'm afraid we'll all go our separate ways and be vulnerable."

* * *

Albert took the news with equanimity. Frances looked disheartened as she sat at the table with the other cyborgs. "Well, we knew they'd not stop with us. Are you absolutely sure?"

"My aunt was always right," Ivan confirmed.

"So we've gotta make plans, hit 'em hard. Now!" Jet pounded the table with his fist for emphasis and was stunned to see Albert shake his head. He got irritated and demanded, "Why not?"

"Because, it's a stalemate between us and the Black Ghost. They're too powerful to go at directly, but not strong enough to waste their resources looking for us. We have to keep our ears open and be ready when that time comes. According to what Ivan said, it'll be a long time. If we strike now, they'll just rebuild. We watch and we continue to steal from them as we need. What we need now is a spy. I don't want to count on Dressler. How about Ann Ember? Can you get in touch with her?"

Ivan frowned. "She's had nothing to do with me over the last month. She despises me for leaving her there. But I had to! Katerina didn't tell me why. She said it was her destiny to train with my mother."

"People aren't victims of fate," Albert insisted and crossed his arms. "For now we wait and watch. We can change this around and keep others from turning into what we are."

Ivan grew dour, but before he could agree, Frances reached over and laid her hand on his. "Albert is right. We have some knowledge and we can prevent it from happening. Until that time comes, we should get stronger. We need to build up this safe house and gather resources, give Gilmore and the others a chance to convince other scientists to defect. We do have time on our side."

Ivan nodded and yanked his hand away. He left the room obviously discontented. Jet gave a chuckle and said, "Hey, I don't like sitting on my hands either."

"Let's finish getting everything done here and then we'll move," Albert said.

"Where to?" Frances asked.

"When Ivan cools down, I'll see if he can pick a target for us."

* * *

Van Bogart strode through the jungle with a purpose: find big game. Malaise had led him from his posh Dutch mansion to the middle of Africa. His import and export business was running on its own after crushing most of his strong, European competition.

His toe caught against something under fallen leaves. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and crouched down. Bogart swiped aside the leaves and noticed a dark fissure, but there was a glint that caught Bogart's eye. He reached down and picked up the rough, round object.

He held it in his palm amazed at the find. It was gold, but that wasn't the amazing part. It was a freshly minted coin far out in the middle of nowhere. A rustling behind the trees caused him to swirl around and bring his rifle to bear. He lowered it in bewilderment when he saw a small, blond girl-child looking at him.

He crouched down to her level as she shied behind a thick rubber tree. He set his rifle down and held out a gloved hand. "Hey there, sweetheart. What are you doing all the way out here? Your parents missionaries?"

She continued to stare at him with wide, blue eyes. He beckoned her with his hand and she stepped away from the tree. He was baffled by her ancient Grecian style clothing.

He asked her in Greek, "What's your name?"

"Venus."

"So where do you live? There are no close-by towns," he continued in Greek.

The little girl pointed to the ground. A distant howl of a wild dog caused the girl to turn and run deep into the forest. Bogart quickly grabbed his gun and jogged after the girl. He saw her disappear into a cave. He paused at the entrance and was shocked to see Grecian art decorating the stone.

A slow, devious smile came to his lips as he stepped in the cave and called out, "Venus, where did you go?"

* * *

[September 19, 1978]

"Jet!" Frances slapped his hand as it snaked around her waist towards the cake she was frosting.

"Ow... come on, Frannie, it looks good," Jet pleaded, shaking the slap off his hand vigorously. "Anyway, you didn't put on enough candles! Forty-seven!"

"I know, I know... I think you're enjoying this more than Albert is going to."

"Yeap!"

"Incorrigible! Go see if Ivan is back."

"Naw, he's gone for a walk."

"Really? Where?" she asked, turning towards Jet as he flopped down on a kitchen chair.

"Don't know. You know Ivan," Jet mumbled and shrugged.

"I know," she said darkly. The last four years Ivan lead the other three cyborgs around the world, terrorizing the Merchants of Death and trying to keep tabs on the Black Ghost. There had been gains and losses, but they'd remained consistent in their enmity with the Black Ghost.

Ivan lead them to New York suddenly, to Jet's delight, five months ago, but had yet to give them any targets. He just remained silent except for saying constantly, "It's beyond my control."

In that time, Frances joined a New York modern dance company. She introduced Albert to the producer of her upcoming production. The producer listened to Albert's original compositions he'd accumulated over the last four years. After which, he got Albert into a teaching position; it was something Albert never dreamed of happening again. Frances and Albert were extremely happy; Jet couldn't claim the same.

He had to remain indoors or incognito. They found out when they landed in New York that Jet was still wanted by the police for questioning on his parents murder a decade ago. He wasn't accused of their murder, but it was still not something the cyborgs could risk.

Jet cut his hair, slicked it back, and dyed it a light strawberry blond in hopes that was enough to get people to over look him. He also avoided Frank and his old neighborhood. It was easy enough because they had a lot of money to rent an apartment in a more affluent part of New York.

"Come on, Jet, this will be fun. Albert has been in great spirits and I know you're happy to be here. Maybe we'll cheer Ivan up?"

"Doubt it, but we'll try."

"So where do you think Ivan went?"

Jet gave Frances' question a serious thought. "Brighton Beach maybe? Somewhere with other Russians?"

* * *

Ivan wandered the streets of the Brighton Beach area, reveling in the Russian language around him. It caused pain and pleasure with each syllable he caught in his ear. It dragged him further away from the high rise apartment he shared with the other three cyborgs.

He had heard rumors of a Dutchman that was buying arms with gold from Africa. Ivan hadn't figured out if the man was a Merchant of Death yet. There was a good indication he was. The man usually did dealings in Brighton Beach, but he hadn't shown up in all the five months the cyborgs had lived in New York. Ivan wanted to wait the man out, worried someone so wealthy could make the Black Ghost flush with cash.

"And I said to him it wasn't enough and he could take that stuff back to Africa for all I care. He threw in several more pounds," an old, craggy voice said in Russian. Ivan turned to see an old Russian sitting across a chessboard from another elderly man. He moved over to the park's fence, the men were too into their game and conversation to notice Ivan.

"What's he doing with all those guns?"

"Do I care? No. I just want... Hey!" The first man jerked his head towards Ivan. He said in English, "Scram kid!"

Ivan replied in Russian, "Your queen is in danger."

"What?" the man muttered in Russian and looked at the chessboard. "And so it is." The man moved his bishop to block the threat. "You're Russian?"

"Yes."

"I haven't seen you around. Who do you belong to?"

"I'm new to the area. If you move your knight you'll loose your rook," Ivan warned, the man's hand paused and moved away from the knight.

"Stop ruining the game!" the second man, griped. "Anyway, I have to go, Dimitry. Maybe you should take a few lessons from the kid." With that he got up and left the unfinished game.

The man waved Ivan over to the now abandoned seat. Ivan gladly sat down, figuring this man could be a key to finding out about the mysterious Dutchman. Ivan advanced the left rook and waited for his opponent's move.

* * *

"Hey! Where have you been? I told you I wanted you to help with Al's party," Jet asked Ivan when he came jogging through the front door of the apartment. Frances was setting the table with Albert's birthday cake while Jet was throwing black streamers around. Ivan yanked off his coat and tossed it on the sofa.

"I found our new target."

"You've been hustling chess in Brighton Beach, haven't you?" Jet guess, giving Ivan a scowl.

"Yes, and this time it payed off in more than cash." Ivan yanked a wad of cash out of his pocket. "There is man by the name of Van Bogart buying guns with large sums of gold."

"He's a Merchant?"

"I think so. It's the type of thing they do." Ivan waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Anyway, he's coming in tonight. We have to make plans."

"Awe nuts. I was looking forward to teasing Al."

"Jet, he expects this from you every year," Frances said, wiping her hands on her apron before taking it off. "I'll call Albert and see if he can leave the rehearsal early."

* * *

Albert peered from the dark alleyway. He waved Frances forward. She joined him and pointed to the navy sedan. "He's alone. Just one man."

"Good. This should be easy," Jet said, looking over Albert's shoulder. "We'll be home before the ice cream melts."

"Don't get cocky," Albert warned. "We don't have a lot of information about this guy."

"He's leaving the car with a suitcase," Frances said. Albert looked over to see the tall, powerfully built Dutchman glance around the street before entering an abandoned building.

"Let's go," Jet snarled impatiently. Albert nodded and led the other three cyborgs across the street. Frances halted in front of the building.

"Two other men inside besides Bogart. They're talking Russian," she said.

Ivan's eyes glowed a bright blue. "It's old man Dimitry. He's haggling over the amount of gold. He just asked Bogart if he intends on starting a war. Bogart says he is. Quick, hide. Old man Dimitry is coming."

The four of them ducked into the alleyway and waited for the elderly Russian to leave the building with Bogart's suitcase. Jet didn't wait for Albert's order to storm through the front door. Albert cursed inside his head and rushed after Jet, France and Ivan on his heels.

Albert's blood ran cold when they got into the lobby of the run down building. Jet's neck was in the firm grasp of Bogart. The Dutchman lofted a baton and was about to strike Jet in the head again. Albert quickly drew his ray gun, but Bogart dragged Jet to his feet and stood behind him.

"Drop it! This baton has more than enough electricity to take down an elephant," Bogart ordered. Albert was stunned at this situation, he figured all these years of success had made Jet a little too lax. He laid his ray gun down and raised his hands.

"Damn it, I'm sorry, Al," Jet said, swiping at his bloody nose. "But there's something...

"Later," Albert snarled, more concerned over getting Jet away than then wood crate full of rifles.

"No, listen! Lizard!" Jet shouted. Pointing upwards. Albert looked up and was shocked to see a lizard the size of a man. It peered down at him as it shifted his weight on the swing chandelier.

"What the..." Now it was clear why Jet got distracted. Before Albert could lift his hand to lizard it pounced in front of him and stood on its hind legs. It was so swift, it grabbed Albert by the wrist and flung him into a wall.

He heard Frances scream and shook off his dizziness. He watched Ivan telekinetically pick up the lizard and toss it across the room. It feel unconscious.

"Enough!" Bogart held up the baton to Jet's temple. Jet thrashed and fell forward to the ground. Blind rage hit Albert he rushed Bogart, heedless of the baton, and punched the man in the jaw. Bogart staggered backwards, but swung at Albert again. Albert took the hit on his left shoulder, but kept after the man. His fury made him unstoppable.

Bogart, bloodied and bruised, leapt back from Albert. The Dutchman looked bewildered at Albert's strength and rage. "You'll pay for this."

With that, Bogart went over to the lizard and gave it a light kick. It came to and followed Bogart out the front door. The imminent danger was gone, so Albert's rage quickly drained away. He scrambled over to Jet and turned him over. He panicked when Jet was non responsive. He picked up Jet and stood. His eyes met with Frances'. She wore a disquieted expression. There was something in her eyes that didn't bode well.

"Ivan, take care of the guns," Albert said, walking out of the abandoned building. Frances followed quietly behind him.

* * *

Albert paced half the night at the foot of Jet's bed while Frances nursed his injuries. He finally started stirring around two in the morning. Frances walked towards the door of the bedroom he shared with Jet. She halted and looked around the room. Albert watched her bite her bottom lip as her face flushed. He started to have a bad feeling. He wished Ivan was around, but the Russian cyborg had yet to make an appearance.

"Frances, I..." Before Albert could finish, she bolted from the room. He heard her bedroom door slam. He sat on the side of Jet's bed and watched him while he waited on Ivan. He got concerned when the dawn came and Ivan was still absent.

Jet let out a yawn and sat up, eyes still bury. "Wow... I had a dream about a huge ass lizard making mince meat out of you."

"Not quite. How are you feeling?"

"I've been better. Some coffee?"

Albert noticed the heavenly aroma and some soft noises coming from the kitchen. Dread was still heavy in his stomach as he helped Jet out of bed. They walked into the kitchen and sat at the table. Albert noticed Frances pouring three cups of coffee after pushing up the sleeve of her fluffy pink robe. She turned with the mugs and sat at the table across from them.

They mumbled their thanks, but Albert noticed her aqua eyes were frosty. She held her steaming mug up to her lips and asked, "So when where you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Jet asked, snappish from his injuries. It hit Albert like a bolt from the blue what she was about to ask. He lowered his eyes to avoid her gaze. Jet was still uncomprehending. "Come on, sister, I'm in no mood. What's got your panties in a twist?"

"I'm talking about you and Albert," she replied, a little too tart for Albert. There was thick silence for several minutes. "I'm not stupid. I've known something strange was going on. It finally clicked last night when you got so violent with that man after he hurt Jet."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jet sputtered. Albert shook his head.

"Why pretend anymore?" Albert said, before sipping his coffee. "We knew this would have to come out in the open one day."

"Albert," Jet snarled. He glanced over to Jet, who was turning beat red. "Fine. Yeah... you're right, Frannie. But I'm not some sort of..."

"Would you stop running off at the mouth for once," Albert said. He turned back to Frances, her eyes were still cool. "Yes, your assumption is accurate, but we figured it wouldn't be prudent to talk about such personal things."

Frances' head snapped back as if Albert had slapped her. "So how long have you been making a fool of me? I know you stopped wearing that necklace with Hilda's wedding band three years ago."

Albert grew baffled over her anger. "Since Ivan has been awake."

"Four years you two have been lying to me! How could you?"

"Why are you getting so bent out of shape? Do you have some sort of thing for one us or something?" Jet asked, getting equally upset with Frances.

"I'm so offended by that! You know better than that after all these years."

"Then what is? Why are you so hurt?" Albert asked, keeping calm.

"Because." She stood from the table and got herself more coffee. She didn't turn to face them. Frances put her delicate hands on the counter; her shoulders slumped. "Because I thought you trusted me enough to talk about something like that. Instead, you both thought so little of my friendship that you didn't share what was going on." She turned to face them. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. "Did you think I would be horrified or disgusted? Didn't you think I could be happy for you?"

Albert felt shame creeping in. He had a feeling that keeping silent about this at Jet's request would lead to something like this. "I'm sorry, Frances."

"I feel hurt at the mistrust you've shown me. I thought, after everything we been through over the last seventeen years, my trustworthiness would mean something."

"Awe, Frannie, don't be sore with Albert. I put him up to keeping quiet."

"Why?" she asked, sitting back at the table. Her eyes weren't frosty any longer, just pleading.

Jet looked down at his hands and gave a shrug. "Where do I come from? Think about it. That's one sure way to get an ass beating. A bad one. I just... well... trust isn't something easy for me. I'm really sorry, Frances. I should have, but I was afraid of what you'd think of me."

"It doesn't matter to me about that. My opinion of you as my friend hasn't changed because you're with Albert. But my opinion will change if you lie to me. Do you understand?"

Jet gulped loud enough for Albert to hear when Frances stood up, came around the table, and gave Jet a quick peck on the cheek. "Hey now, you'll make Al jealous." Jet's attempt at humor was his effort to switch away from an emotionally messy topic.

Albert smirked, feeling a lot lighter and more relaxed. He decided to take Jet's lead now that Frances seemed more buoyant and in a forgiving mood. "Oh you know that isn't the Arnoul you wanted a kiss from."

"Albert Heinrich! Don't you dare!" Jet screamed, pounding his fist on the table. Frances looked baffled and amused, so Jet decided to push his luck. "How about birthday cake for breakfast?"

"I think you're too sly for your own good. Oh... I hear Ivan coming down the street."

"Good. I was about to go looking," Albert said. Minutes later, Ivan trotted into the kitchen with a smile on his face and Bogart's suitcase.

"I got in touch with Gilmore about that giant monster. They're going to do some checking on Van Bogart."

"Good," Albert said.

"How did you get that?" Jet asked.

"I stole it from old man Dimitry. He'll think Bogart did it and that'll keep him in plenty trouble. I figure we could go to Montana while we wait to hear back from Gilmore."

"Montana? Why?" Albert asked.

"Because my aunt almost moved there. I just want to see it for myself."

"Great. That's sounds good to me," Albert said.

Ivan joined them at the table and Frances got him a mug of coffee. Ivan sat upright, his eyes turned bright blue. "Normally, I don't pry into your minds, but the emotions were so thick. I see you dragged their secret from them?"

"You knew too?" Frances seemed surprised and then slightly annoyed. "You men."

"Ah, Frannie, you know you love us!" Jet said. To which he got a dish towel thrown at his head.

To be continued.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34:

[1980]

Ann gasped and jolted awake. She flung her blankets off and ran down the hall. "Mama Erika!"

She didn't bother knocking on the Gamos' bedroom door. Ann flung it open in time to see Erika bolt upright on her bed, eyes glowing a bright amethyst, and then collapse back beside Doctor Gamo. Her eyes dimmed as her head flopped to the side.

"Mama Erika! Papa Fyodor!" She walked over, starting to tremble. She extended her telepathy to find that they had just died. Her hands covered her mouth as she sank to her knees.

After several minutes she rose to her feet, tears trickling down her cheeks. She suddenly rushed to the front door of their Ghost Island apartment; she found the emergency alert panel and pushed the alarm button. Red lights flared and a klaxon blared as she sank to the floor and sobbed. She didn't even register the guards running into the apartment.

* * *

She sat, inconsolable, in the lobby of the hospital wing. She was grateful no one was around; she wasn't controlling her empathy as tightly as she should. Mama Erika would be terribly disappointed, but she didn't care at that moment.

Over the years, the Gamos had become the only parents she knew. They cared for her, trained her, and praised her accomplishments. She had embraced Erika as her mentor after Ivan abandoned her, and Erika had trained her well. Erika helped cultivate her natural talent towards empathy, and once she gave up the idea of escape, her abilities grew and her life became more comfortable.

She straightened up in the stiff chair when Doctor Uranus came in with slumped shoulders. He sat beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched away, remembering Papa Fyodor's stern warning to her to never be in a room alone with this particular Greek scientist.

"I'm so sorry, my dear. Fyodor had a sudden heart attack and Erika's ESP picked up on the event. Her empathy gave her a sympathetic heart attack."

She stood from her chair and nodded. "I figured that already. Empathy is one of the most dismissed gifts, but it can be powerful when focused."

"Yes, well... Scar wants you to meet with him."

"Now, Doctor?" She asked, smoothing the front of her gray skirt.

"Of course. I'll escort you..."

"No!" She glared at him. "I'll go alone."

With that, she fled the hospital wing and made her way to Scar's throne room. The two guards stood aside, obviously expecting her. She clenched her hands together and averted her eyes; she entered demurely as she had been taught. She curtsied and waited to be addressed.

"My sympathies, young mistress Ember." Scar's cold voice sent a chill down her spine, but she regained her emotional control.

"Thank you, Highness."

"Now, you will be expected to step up into Mrs. Gamo's role. She's trained you well, and I believe you are ready to embrace this new responsibility. You will now swear allegiance to the Black Ghost and become an official member."

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. There were distant memories of losing her original parents, however those were foggy. Mama Erika said it was the first generation double zero cyborgs' fault. She accepted that and now passionately desired revenge against them. Nothing burned hotter in her heart than to prove she could beat Ivan in a fight. Becoming a Black Ghost member would be the way to get that revenge.

She dropped down to her knees and lowered her head. This was the moment Mama Erika had wanted for her, to be inducted into the Black Ghost, but it seemed all too soon. She pushed her hesitation aside, but there was still a nagging thought to run far away from Scar.

"You will swear fidelity to the Black Ghost until death by an enemy's hand or ours?"

"I swear," she replied numbly.

"Good. You now inherit all the Gamos' possessions and apartment. I'll give you three days to get things in order. After that, you'll report to me for your orders."

She rose slowly and nodded, still not willing to meet Scar's large, red eyes. "Yes, sir. It was Mama Erika's wish that I serve you. Have no doubts about my loyalty."

* * *

Ryu Kitagawa checked his watch, getting more irritated with the delayed plane coming in from Los Angeles. A soft, female voice came over the loud speaker, announcing the arrival. He stood up and went to the greeting area. People started streaming out from deplaning, and, finally, Akira Shimamura was among them.

"Ryu!" he shouted and jogged over to his older cousin. Ryu wasn't pleased by his cousin's lax manners, but he forced a smile and shook the young man's hand.

"It's nice to finally see you again. Let's go get some dinner," Ryu suggested in Japanese. Akira cocked his head as if he didn't understand.

"Dinner? Okay." Akira finally replied. Ryu started wondering if his mother had made a mistake letting him go to a boarding school in California.

Ryu took his cousin to a posh restaurant and settled in. After they had had their dinner, Akira ventured into territory Ryu wasn't prepared for. "So, Aunt Hitomi's gala is on Friday?"

"Yes," he snapped. "It's a fund-raiser for charities that'll benefit orphans, and we're hoping for a record for the funds raised this year."

"It's a shame she passed away two years ago. Her legend is large in Hollywood," Akira said.

Ryu didn't need to be reminded of his mother's quick demise from a brain tumor or all the press surrounding the funeral. At the funeral, the spotlight was directed suddenly at Ryu, who was ill-prepared for the role, in spite of inheriting his mother's looks and shrewdness. He was even approached by one of her former directors about becoming an actor. He declined, citing that he now had to finish raising Akira.

It was hard being thrust into so much of the family business at the age of twenty-five. His mother, though, had given him enough Merchant of Death connections to help smooth some of the transition. The real focus for Ryu was developing his personal relationships in the Merchants of Death, so that one day he could take revenge against the double zero cyborgs for losing his father and uncle.

He set aside his minor annoyance with Akira at bringing up hard memories and broached the subject uppermost on his mind concerning his cousin. "Now that you've graduated, it's time for you to consider college. I'd like to send you to Tokyo University after the summer."

Akira frowned a little and said, "I'm not really sure I'd like to pursue college. I have other things I'd like to do."

"Like racing?" Ryu easily guessed. Akira grew chagrined. "It's a hobby you did with my blessing."

"Yes, and I have a great shot at making it a career. There is a chance for me to go to Monaco for a qualifying drive next month."

Ryu contemplated this turn of events and realized why his mother had sent Akira to America; it was a wise move. He was bound to find some some vice or entertainment to distract him from the companies he was due to inherit seven years from now.

"Well, I'm certainly willing to let you go to Monaco."

"Really?" Akira sputtered, giving Ryu a wide-eyed look of happiness. He waved off Akira's disbelief.

"But Aunt Hitomi probably wouldn't have approved."

"Well, you're still young, and I want you to enjoy it while you can. Now is the time for that. You still have several years before you have to think about your inheritance."

"But you haven't had time to enjoy being young. You had to take on so much responsibility on my behalf."

"Please! Trust me..." Ryu flashed one of his false smiles he'd inherited from his mother. "I'd love to live vicariously through you. You would be doing me a favor by pursuing your dreams. Go ahead and take the same risk my mother did breaking into the film industry. She'd be proud."

"Seriously? You're giving me your blessing?"

"Certainly," he answered, before finishing off his tart red wine.

"But why? I don't understand. I thought you or Aunt Hitomi would want me to come and learn the business."

"If you're not interested, you wouldn't be an asset. Besides you have your whole life ahead of you. Pursue what you desire."

"Cousin, I can't thank you enough," Akira said breathlessly as Ryu motioned for more wine.

"Your gratitude is thanks enough," he said.

He'd have to talk to his lawyers tomorrow about subtle strategies for gaining more control over Akira's inheritance. Since Akira was grateful, he'd probably sign anything Ryu waved under his nose.

Ryu settled back in his chair as he sipped his refreshed glass of wine. He indulged Akira's rambling, but picked up on something that disturbed him slightly. His cousin talked of an American girl named Julie Croft that he'd taken out a few times. Akira broached the subject of taking her to Monaco with him, in a very demure and nervous way.

"An American girl? I'm not pleased, but take her with you if you'd like. Just make sure you're careful."

"Careful?" Akira asked, with a blank expression that irritated Ryu.

"We'll talk on the way home," Ryu snapped. After all, it wouldn't do if Akira accidentally got girl pregnant, or worse for Ryu, married her and then produced a Shimamura heir.

* * *

"We have rejected your application to become a Merchant of Death," Scar informed the Dutchman kneeling in his throne room. The man clenched his fist, but Scar assured him, "There is a position of more prominence, since you have brought us more knowledge than we'd hoped. The underground kingdom you've gained control of is impressive."

"Thank you, Lord Scar," Bogart said, choking back his aggravation.

"We want you do something that requires secrecy. If we approve your membership now, spies may let the double zero cyborgs know what we're up too. With you not being associated with us, you can move around the globe and do something vital for us."

Indeed, Van Bogart had opened up new resources and revenue the Black Ghost couldn't ignore, but the man was too powerful to just sit on a board with other Merchants of Death. That's why Scar wanted to get the adventurous man on a project and utilize his skills directly.

"So what would you like me to do?"

"I'd like you to be in charge of hunting down the first generation double zero cyborgs."

"Yes, of course. I'd love revenge! They ruined my ability to use Russian gun dealers! I'd like to pay them back."

"And you will. But first you'll be recruiting new people for our second generation double zero cyborgs. Bring us four people for surgery. You'll have your revenge through them. Thanks to your influx of money three years ago, we now have the ability to carry forward on four more cyborg designs."

"Excellent! I'll find you the perfect men for this."

"Good! Only this time, make sure they're so indebted to us they can't leave. Make them believe the center of their world will collapse if they disobey. We simply kidnapped the first generation, and that was a mistake. We must enforce loyalty. Once you get us the recruits for the second generation, we will reconsider your application for membership in the Merchants of Death."

"As you wish, Lord Scar." With that, Van Bogart left the throne room in satisfaction.

He was denied membership, but given the task to hunt down the instruments for his revenge against 004 and his small crew. This was the hunt he'd been craving for years.

* * *

Junior let out a deep sigh as he read the formal eviction notice from a judge in Phoenix that had arrived in the mail. It gave him three days to pay the mortgage on the ranch or sign over his half to Kyle Cody. Kyle had been lucky a drought happened in Arizona and took its toll on Junior's land. Kyle's tourist business, on the other hand, was booming.

What galled Junior the most was how Kyle and Yazzi Two-Feather had teamed up. Yazzi now had a place to do a dinner show with a built in audience. And to Junior's consternation, the show had gotten more lurid and played up every stereotype about Navajo imaginable. Of course, Yazzi had made Junior a job offer last week when it looked like foreclosure was in the works. Junior still refused to debase himself.

He had done everything he could over the last seven years to make his half of the land a profitable cattle ranch, but too many years of drought had harmed him, and his employees kept getting lured away by Yazzi Two-Feather's show. The money was too good for the Navajo youth to pass up.

He balled up the notice in his giant fist and lowered his head. He didn't want to be a failure at twenty-five, and he certainly wanted to honor the Codys' memory. Junior also felt as if he were failing to keep the land as pristine as possible by not being able to afford a legal challenge against Kyle Cody any longer.

He tried to work out a solution in his head until a knock on the ranch house door. He rose and opened the door. He was surprised to see a stranger standing on his porch. He was a tall man with broad shoulders. He wore a gray suit and was carrying a briefcase. Junior assumed it was another lawyer from Kyle to get him to settle.

"My name is Van Bogart. I'm here to see if I can make you an offer that would not only save this ranch, but buy out Kyle Cody and put you back in charge." The man's strange accent brought up a memory.

Junior had seen this man wandering the streets of Fredonia. He was asking questions about the various people on the street. Junior's financial troubles were well known around the town that's only pastime was gossiping, so that's what brought this man to his door with knowledge.

"Come in. I'll listen, but I'm not sure you can help." Junior got the man coffee and they sat at the chipped up kitchen table. Junior was still leery, but desperate enough to listen to last minute schemes.

"I can make arrangements with the banks to purchase the mortgage on your place. Plus, I've made an offer that Kyle Cody couldn't turn down. He'll sell to you."

Junior was skeptical, because Kyle had been stubborn about his tourist business. Still the offer was temping to just grab. Junior shook his head. "My problem is that I still wouldn't be able to afford converting that hotel back into a ranch. It would be a huge undertaking."

"Yes, I understand and will sweeten the deal. I'll pay for that as well."

Junior flinched back in his chair and eyed the man. "Why would you offer to help me out?"

"Because I need someone of your considerable stature to serve just two years with my organization. You're the perfect person for the job. Besides, it'll take two years to convert it all back to good ranch land."

"What kind of organization?"

"We do scientific research. You would be guarding scientists and trying to regain some merchandise we lost twenty years ago. Very simple stuff."

"It sounds like a good opportunity."

"Yes! But you still don't sound convinced. Tell you what, that side-show you find so offensive will be gone too. I'll hire all of them to do the work reverting the hotel. Does that sweeten the deal?"

Junior wasn't surprised the man knew so much, because Fredonia was too small of a town. He started nodding his head, liking the idea of all his fellow Navajo having a chance at legitimate work. They could rebuild some respect for themselves.

"I'd like to work for you."

* * *

Chang looked around the desolate Jinhe reeducation camp and shook his head. There hadn't been enough food left for the workers days ago. No Party officials had been by to give them instructions. Most of the people with him carried on, numbly trying to scratch out an existence on the dry, cracked soil. The weaker people, the elderly or sick, lay in huts, most close to death. His own stomach rumbled in hunger.

Indeed, Chang felt worn down by this latest famine. Over the years the Party officials had reduced the number of guards, however, their viciousness had increased. There was no end in sight for Chang, and despair had taken over in his mind, driven by the constant lack of food.

He walked to the edge of the camp, away from the others. There was a small tool shack beside a withered old tree. He opened the door of the tool shack and got a crate and rope. He fashioned it into a noose, not seeing any other options for his life. He could no longer live in starvation and abuse.

He flung the noose over a limb and stepped on a create. He gave out a silent prayer before kicking the create aside. He heard a loud bang and then he crashed against the ground. He sat up, dazed. He looked over towards the road behind him.

There were two men standing by a car. One was a tall foreigner with a rifle. The other looked like a driver for party officials. The driver said, "Get up! This man wants to talk to you."

Chang quickly rushed over to the man, and dropped to his knees in front of the foreigner. "He saved my life."

"This man wants to hire you. Go with him. He paid the Party your fine."

Chang's despair evaporated into extreme gratitude. He kowtowed to the man and followed him to the car. His long years of turmoil were over. With any luck, he could try to get his life back after paying back his debt to this stranger. Perhaps he would even be able to taste good food again!

* * *

"And what's his story?"

GB didn't look up from where his head rested on the bar. Some Dutchman had been gossiping with the pub owner for two hours now.

"Him? He was an actor. Washed up drunk now," the pub owner said in open disdain. GB knew they were talking about him now. He just didn't care; he knew he'd earned that disdain. Besides, he was too drunk for much of a conversation.

"Really?"

"Yeah, he hasn't had work in five years. His lady friend left with his daughter because he's a sot and too much of a ladies man. I feel sorry for her because their kid is sick. Terminal at the age of seven."

GB jumped up and staggered around his barstool. "Shut up about Rose!"

Indeed, she was the reason he was working so hard on getting drunk tonight. He'd gone to visit Sophie and Rose that afternoon. Rose could barely hold her head up, and Sophie was too distracted to say three civil words to him.

"Well, you could be the type of person I'm looking for," the Dutchman said, pushing aside GB's drink. "Come with me. I have some work for you. My name is Van Bogart."

"Work? That won't solve my problems," GB said as the man lead him to the pub's door.

"True, but the men I work for could help solve your daughter's problems."

"What? How is that possible?"

"They're scientists with a great deal of advanced knowledge. I'll make a call. Where is your daughter, by the way?"

"Great Ormond Street Hospital," GB muttered before the man darted into a red phone booth. Moments latter GB found himself shaking hands with a Doctor Dressler in the hospital's lobby.

The staff was thinned out, and it was quiet in the wee hours of the morning. He gave permission for Dressler to look over Rose's medical history. He knew Sophie would have a fit, but GB felt guilty for not being able to provide for them. If he had a chance to get Rose a doctor that could save her, it would be worth incurring Sophie's wrath.

After a half an hour of Dressler studying the papers and making phone calls he rejoined GB in the lobby with Bogart. "We can do it. We can repair her heart easily."

"But how? The doctors said..."

"Forget these quacks. Our organization has scientists who are thirty... forty years ahead of common medicine. Let me operate tonight before your wife..."

"Not wife." GB snarled.

"Accept my offer before the girl's mother gets here. My only interest is in saving lives," Dressler said.

"Yes! Hurry before it's too late and the woman interferes," Van Bogart encouraged.

"Okay," GB said, quickly. Dressler went over to the night nurse. GB was drunk, but not too drunk to see Dressler bribe the woman. The pit of his stomach sank and he started getting ill at ease. "You know, maybe I should call Sophie..."

"If you do, the deal is off. Don't you want to save your daughter's life?"

"Yes," GB muttered and settled back in the hospital's chair. He felt himself drift off, and he dozed until Van Bogart shook him. "Hun?"

"Your daughter's operation is finished."

"What?" He checked his watch and was amazed he'd blacked out for five hours, but now he was feeling sober. And also a little panicked. What had possessed him to hand his daughter's life over to a stranger? He stood up and followed Van Bogart down the hallway, trying to push aside his trepidation.

"Rose?" he asked entering her hospital room. She was still in a deep sleep; Dressler was writing something on her hospital records.

"It was a success. She'll recover fully with in a few months. Because of the nature of our research, it has to be kept a secret. No one will know. It will be something of a miracle."

"Miracle? Yes," GB said, going to Rose's bedside. He took her small hand and squeezed it. Her fingernails were no longer blue. Her cheeks were no longer an ashy gray. Dressler left, taking the paperwork with him.

"Now let's discuss you paying us back."

"Sure, what do I have to do?"

"Just work for us for two years. Your primary job will be to track down some merchandise we lost twenty years ago. Are you game?"

"Yes. Let's go." He gave Rose a quick kiss on the forehead and left with Van Bogart, pleased to see a hint of a flush on her skin, now.

* * *

Pyunma ran through the dense jungle as fast as he could. The angry voices were growing more distant. His lungs and legs burned with the effort to get away from Umbaba's men. He had lost track of Mamado and his father when they had escaped Umbaba's compound.

He'd created a distraction so the guards would follow him rather than Mamado and his wounded father. It seemed to have worked. Now that Mamado was the father of his two nephews, he wasn't going to let his brother-in-law languish in Umbaba's compound as a political prisoner. Plus, his father was too weak to fight any more, having been a political prisoner for almost six years. And indeed, Pyunma didn't relish the idea of remaining in prison as a rebel.

He ducked into a thicket and flopped down on his belly. He fought to still his breath as he cursed his and Mamado's mixed luck. They had set off to find Pyunma's father several months ago when several of the men from his village gave up fighting Umbaba. It was rumored that Kwabena was being held as a prisoner in one of Umbaba's compounds. Pyunma decided to go find his father, since the men were back, defeated and disheartened. Mamado decided to go along, wanting to prove his worth and itching for revenge.

They found themselves caught in a trap set in an abandoned village and were taken for questioning. They found Kwabena, now lame from infections due to untreated wounds. Pyunma created a distraction by setting fire to the hut they were held in. He urged Mamado to take his father and run. Pyunma was able to get a rifle away from a man and get them to chase after him. The rest would have to be up to Mamado. Pyunma had to focus on his own situation, now.

His heart thudded painfully at the sound of rapid gunfire over his head. It baffled him, because it didn't come from men he was running from.

"Come on out! They're all dead."

Pyunma started at the hated Dutch language. It was a common European language across Africa, and his home country of Mwanba was no exception. The Dutch had plundered his country and left heartache and their language.

Pyunma rose from the thicket to see a tall Dutchman with a high powered, rapid fire rifle, one of the best in the world. He looked over his shoulder to see the Dutchman had killed Umbaba's eight men pursuing him.

"Why did you save me?" Pyunma asked, unused to kindness from a Dutchman. The man smiled and draped his rifle over his shoulder.

"I saw you fight and I saw how clever you were back at Umbaba's. I think you'll be an asset to an organization I work for. I want to hire you."

"Hire me?"

"Yes, bodyguard type of work, searching for goods that went missing twenty years ago, that sort of thing. You're young... twenties?"

"Twenty-three."

"Perfect."

"But I have things I need to do for Mwanba," Pyunma said.

"Make you a deal. We'll go get you father and that other guy and return to your village. I've got something to make the deal sweet. Just hear me out."

Pyunma nodded and they found Mamado and Kwabena hiding in some underbrush. The man introduced himself as Van Bogart and took them to his jeep. Good to his word, he drove them back to Pyunma's village.

There was much rejoicing at Kwabena's return. The night broke out in festivities and much praise for Pyunma. After a large feast, he was able to slip away with the Dutchman.

They went to Bogart's jeep. The man reached into a create in the back and drew out the same rifle he'd used on Umbaba's men earlier. "Here's the deal, you work for us for two years. I'll provided plenty of these to your village and any allied villages to fight off Umbaba."

"But I'm much needed around here."

"One man is the price for all this protection. Trust me, it'll be well worth the trade."

Pyunma hesitated, inclined not to trust a Dutchman, but he knew Umbaba would be on his way for some revenge. He nodded. "We'll need them by tomorrow."

"You'll have them within the hour. Is it a deal?" The man held out his hand. Pyunma shook it and turned to go tell his family he'd be leaving for two years.

* * *

"Nice work, Bogart," Uranus said, surveying the four unconscious men on the operating tables.

"I aim to please. Besides, I have so much over their heads. They won't rebel."

"I still think we should take their memories, but that's not my decision. Scar wants them as-is. Gamo's death will set us back a little."

"Well, I'm off to tending the little war I have under the earth. Let me know when I'm needed again," Bogart gloated.

To be continued.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35:

Pyunma awoke and took a deep breath. He sat up slowly and shook his dizzy head. He slid off the hospital bed and was handed a red uniform and a yellow scarf by a doctor named Gaia.

"Put these on. There will be a test."

"Test?" was all he could managed because of this dry, swollen tongue. "Water?"

The doctor that handed him the uniform busted out laughing. "Oh, you'll have plenty of that in a few minutes. Get dressed."

Pyunma pulled the clothes on and followed Doctor Gaia from the laboratory. They went down the long hallway. Gaia opened one of the doors with a security card swipe. Pyunma was amazed at the huge water tank in the room hooked up to a computer bank.

"Hop in," Gaia ordered. Pyunma climbed a scaffolding on the side of the tank and slipped in. The water was warm and pleasant. Suddenly a thick sheet of metal slid over the top of the tank, trapping Pyunma under the water. Pyunma panicked and slammed his fist against it, holding his breath. He thrashed around and his mouth opened against his will. Seconds of shock passed when Pyunma realized he wasn't drowning. His lungs, somehow, processed the water painlessly.

He turned and swam to the edge of the tank, gliding through the water with more agility and speed than he ever had. He watched Gaia at the controls. He could see the gage Gaia was monitoring was labeled pressure. The numbers increased gradually. Pyunma noticed the temperature was sinking, but not uncomfortably. He knocked on the tank's glass. Gaia ignored him as the pressure grew.

Gradually, Pyunma's skin tingled painfully and his lungs felt too strained to work. His vision began to grow dark. Before he sank to the bottom of the tank, the pressure and temperature eased off. Pyunma swam to the surface when the steal sheet rolled off the top of the tank.

"What was that?" Pyunma dragged himself out of the tank and onto the scaffolding.

"I wanted to see your limits. After we altered you..."

"Altered?"

"Remember, you agreed to serve us. You can't do your number one task without being altered."

Pyunma's memory was too foggy. After he was brought to Ghost Island they put him in a deep sleep. "How is it now that I'm able to understand what you're saying?"

Gaia held up a tiny black box. "This is implanted in your brain. It translates the words directly into your brain. I have one myself. Really handy and harmless. Now that that's finished, it's time for you to meet your companions."

"Companions?"

"Yes. Three others that will assist you on your most important task."

Pyunma followed Gaia out of the room and further into the complex. "What is this task?"

"We'll discuss it later. Now it's time for you to meet the other members of your team." Gaia took the security card and swiped it at another doorway. It lead to a large hanger bay that was open to the outdoors. Pyunma could see the lush island forest outside, but something to the left caught his eyes: three other people dressed in red and yellow uniforms like him.

They looked equally exhausted and seemed very silent. Gaia lead Pyunma over to them. "This is 005, 006, and 007." In turned he pointed at a ruddy skinned giant, a portly Chinese man, and an older, bald man. Gaia then waved his hand at Pyunma's nose. "This is 008. So, why don't you get acquainted. Walk around Ghost Island and get to know each other. Learn to work as a team while you get to know your improved bodies."

With that, Gaia swirled on his heels and left Pyunma with these strangers. He turned back to the men and said, "Well, I could use a walk to shake off this stiffness. My name is Pyunma Dwambee, by the way."

"Well... I go by Great Britain," the bald man introduced himself with a large smile. "This chap is Chang Ko, and I'm not sure what his name is. I was just about to ask."

"Geronimo Junior, but I go by Junior," the giant of a man replied softly.

"How about a walk then?" Pyunma suggested.

"You don't have to ask me twice. I maybe an urban dweller, but I'm starting to feel cagey," Great Britain said, stretching his arms into the air.

"Do you remember how long we've been here, Great Britain?" Pyunma asked as they turned and walked towards the door of the hanger bay. He realized they all had the same translation devices implanted in their heads as well.

"Three months, and you can call me GB."

Pyunma gasped and turned to the older man. "That long?"

"Well that's what I gleaned from the conversation I overheard."

"Incredible," Pyunma said, stunned at losing so much time.

"So what brings you here?" the rotund Chinese man asked.

"My village needed guns to protect us from a local warlord. In return for two years of my time they provided the weapons. And you?"

"I was in a reeducation camp on a false accusation that I insulted Chairman Mao."

"Ah, you were a political prisoner, too," Pyunma said, feeling a wave of sympathy for the man.

The lush forest stretched out before them. They made their way around mossy logs and vine covered trees.

"Very beautiful," Junior said stoically, taking in the scenery. A log blocked their path, so Junior bent down, picked it up, and tossed it aside as if were nothing. Pyunma's jaw dropped open at the display of strength.

"You're stronger than you look... and that's saying a lot," GB muttered, looking after the log.

"It's how I'm altered," he replied.

"So how did you end up here?" GB asked.

"I was about to lose my land. They saved it and helped get some people from my tribe jobs. Respectable work is hard to find."

"And how about you?" Pyunma asked GB.

"My daughter needed heart surgery. They were able to help her. I figured two years of my time is more than worth it to save her life. Maybe after that time I can patch things up with her mother. Maybe even marry her this go around."

Pyunma caught the implication. In his village a man was automatically married to any woman that gave him a child. If the man didn't act like a husband to his new wife, then the man was cast out of the village. Women had a strong authority about family matters in Mwanba and didn't suffer fickle men. As a matter of fact, one of the upsides of being away from his village was not having his mother and sisters picking out a wife for him or nag him about marriage.

This man speaking casually gave Pyunma a feeling that the different customs and traditions from their cultures would take some time to blend, just like getting used to the ability to hear the words of different languages and have total understanding.

"I think I hear the ocean." Pyunma mused.

"I'll go see," GB offered. Then the man's body morphed into a sea gull. GB took off into the air, leaving his red uniform behind.

"Did you see that?" Pyunma asked Chang. It was like the myths his parents told him about when he was a child. This modern world was becoming pure magic in Pyunma's eyes.

"Yes, I saw him do something like that right before you came in. He can change his form at will. It's quite amazing. His bones are a super rubber, as is his skin. It's very impressive."

"Amazing," Pyunma agreed. "What about you?"

With that Chang deeply inhaled and blew a bright fiery cloud at a tree. It burned to a blackened cinder. Chang then crossed his arms and said, "Pretty impressive, too, I think."

Pyunma broke out into a smile when GB swooped down and morphed into a man. He quickly threw his uniform on again. "It's a few meters from here. This way."

They made their way to the beach. Pyunma laughed and jogged to the ocean. He dove under the waves heedless of the others. He glided through the water, reveling in his changed body, so light and quick. He'd be the best warrior in all of Mwanba. His parents would be extremely proud. He felt as though he could chase off Umbaba and his army all by him self.

Before he surfaced he noticed black balls with spikes chained to the ocean floor. He swam back to the beach, the other three watching him as he exited the surf.

"Well, this island is certainly secure. I think I saw mines out there. Seems strange. These scientists must be threatened all the time."

"That was my impression," Junior said, pointing to a tower in the distance. At the top was a guard and a teenage girl. She was watching them carefully. Pyunma could swear the girl's eyes glowed a bright green.

Pyunma turned back to the others and asked, "Is it me or is everyone else hungry?"

"Famished," GB said with a dramatic flair, waving his hand in the air.

"Oh! I hope they let me cook. I haven't used proper ingredients in ages," Chang said, clasping his meaty hands together and rubbing them vigorously.

"You cook? It sure looks like you cook well," GB teased and poked a finger at Chang's stomach.

"I was famous for my food. Let's go and I'll show you."

* * *

"That was amazing food," GB said, rubbing his bloated stomach as he leaned back in his chair.

"Yes, I've never eaten anything like that before. It was quite good," Pyunma agreed.

"Thank you, thank you. It's my greatest joy to cook," Chang said, picking up the empty dishes from the cafeteria's table. Junior stood and helped the Chinese man take the dishes to the kitchen.

"So what do you think?" GB asked, leaning on the table with crossed arms.

"About this place?" He looked around the cafeteria that was meant for two hundred people, but they were the only ones in it. He then gazed out of a window and could see that the night had crept up while they ate. He then looked down at the plain blue hospital scrubs they were given to wear when not training. Not uncomfortable, but a little too sterile for Pyunma's taste. "I think it'll be fine once we train. And it already seems they have some task they want us to do. That'll pass the time nicely."

"You know, it seems strange. All this generosity. I guess I need to stop second guessing myself."

"I know what you mean." Pyunma said, in a whisper. He then sat up straighter and called out, "Chang, Junior, we'll get the dormitory ready."

Pyunma stood and lead GB down the hallway after Chang gave him an acknowledging wave. GB tapped Pyunma's shoulder. "Didn't Doctor Gaia say it was to the left?"

"I thought he said right." Pyunma followed GB down the left hallway. GB opened the door of the first room they came to and flipped on the light.

Pyunma was taken aback by a strong oder in the room: bleach. His eyes lingered over the hasty paint job. Under the white paint were faint traces of what appeared to be writing of some sort. He recognized a few shaky English words from the Christian missionaries that had educated him. The vast majority was in a language he didn't know.

"Wow, someone knows some every foul words in German," GB said, examining it. "Sure doesn't know grammar for anything. Sure doesn't have any penmanship, either."

Pyunma looked around the room's furniture. Two beds across from each other were unkempt, two were made. There was a filing cabinet and desk. The desk had stacks of paper. Pyunma went over and rifled through the papers. Almost all were filled with the same messy scrawl that GB pronounced to be German.

But then there was another handwriting, much neater. "GB, what's this say? It looks like a letter?"

"Let's see... its in German, too... it says... Dear Gianni Alessandro... Everybody makes mistakes, and I take all of your pain as my responsibility. I didn't think things could go so horribly wrong for all of us. My own desire to leave the three of you, the same desire running rampant through our little 'family,' caused me to be reckless and cause irreparable and horrific harm to you. Looking at you... your face and the atrocious exhibition they have made it... is a reminder of my recklessness. My recklessness was the same with Hilda; it caused her death, but I'm not willing to be doomed to making these same tragic errors. I promise you, we'll find a way to be free again. I'm not sure what will happen with Ivan, but you and Frances will be free again. I just ask that you keep your temper under control until I can figure out how to free us. It only makes this situation worse on us all. Also, be very careful and keep yourself safe for my sake, if not your own. I can't stand the idea of loss... Yours, Albert." GB held the letter from a distance and turned to Pyunma with an odd look on his face. "That's a strange letter."

"Indeed," Pyunma said. There were steps coming from the hallway. GB quickly grabbed more papers, along with the letter, and stashed them under his hospital scrubs. They started when Doctor Uranus appeared at the doorway.

"What are you two doing in this room?"

"We were on our way to the dormitory," GB said. Pyunma admired how the man didn't look nervous in the least. "I think you were right, Pyunma. It was to the right. Sorry, my fault."

"Well leave this dormitory alone! We should have burned it to the ground!" Uranus shouted, obviously agitated. Pyunma didn't wait for the man to order them again. He jogged back down the hallway with GB in tow. They got to the correct dormitory. This one was immaculate.

Chang and Junior were already there, making the four beds. "Where have you two been?" Chang asked.

"Exploring a little," GB answered. He made sure the door was shut and sat on a bed. He slyly drew the papers out from his scrubs. "I have the feeling there is something they don't want us to know. I wonder who these Gianni and Albert fellows are. I love a good mystery."

"Let me know what you find," Pyunma requested. Chang dimmed the light, except by GB's bed. Everyone else, save GB, turned in.

* * *

"Well?" Pyunma asked, sitting across from GB at the cafeteria table. Chang wheeled out a huge cart filled with Dim Sum and served them. Junior joined them, too, coming in from a morning walk in the woods.

"Albert was a German fellow. Some sort of musician. The person he corresponds with doesn't seem to have a high level of education. It's as if on some of the papers he's practicing writing simple phrases in German. Sometimes French."

"Gianni?" Pyunma asked. GB nodded.

"More like John Alexander. I don't think he's Italian, like I had thought at first, English speaker of some sort. This Gianni fellow is the biggest part of the mystery. Also, there were two other people they refer to in their letters."

"Were?"

"The letters are pretty old. And when they do correspond with each other, it's rather dismal. They all have the tone as if they were facing a death sentence," GB said.

"What were they doing here?" Junior asked.

"No clue. The woman must have been very ill. I didn't find her writing at all, but both of them seem terribly concerned about her, almost heartsick over what's happening to her and themselves. Also, they grow wary of the boy with them for some reason. It seems he's not kept with them... something about his parents."

"Well, what was happening to them?" Chang asked, finally sitting after everyone was served their breakfast.

"They refused to put details on paper, whatever it was, was so dark and horrific they wouldn't give it words," GB replied, before popping a dumpling in his mouth. "I want to find out more. I'm thinking I'll just revisit that other dormitory."

"Good idea. We really should find out more about these people," Pyunma said. He tackled his own breakfast as GB left the large, empty cafeteria.

He was disturbed when GB was dragged back into the cafeteria between two guards. The British man sputtered smoothing excuses and took his seat at the table across from Pyunma again. The guards left in a huff. That's when GB turned to the group and said, "It seems they burned all the papers in that room and white washed the walls. Nothing is left. These Black Ghost fellows really hate those four people for some reason."

"They must," Pyunma agreed. "Well, let's all keep our eyes open. I'm sure there are more clues around."

"We're four in number," Junior pointed out ominously.

"Yes, and your number starts with five, rather than one. Very curious," Chang added, just as dower.

* * *

"Jet will make you eat that if he catches you," Ivan said, casting a shadow over Albert's shoulder. It made it harder to read the English newsprint. Albert looked over his shoulder where Ivan stood dressed in blue, floral print shorts and and a plain, white tee-shirt.

Albert removed his reading glasses and shook his head at them. Gilmore had offered to correct Albert's vision with new eyes, but Albert declined, not wishing to lose more flesh. One day he'd let Gilmore fix them, but he'd decided to put it off as long as possible. His long distance vision was still sharp as ever. He tossed them in Frances' big, canvas bag.

"I hope you'll keep quiet. I'm figuring out where we need to go after this little vacation is finished. You don't seem to have an opinion," Albert said, moving over a little on the beach blanket. Ivan flopped down beside him and took the newspaper from Albert.

"Where are Jet and Frances?" Ivan asked, ignoring Albert's pointed observation. Albert waved his metallic hand towards the surf washing up on Fiji's white sand. "Again?"

"What else have those two done all summer?"

Albert looked towards the ocean again in time to see Jet catch a swell and surf into the shore. Jet dragged his board onto the shore and looked back at the ocean. He shouted, "Come on, Frannie, don't be chicken!"

Moments later, Frances caught a wave and glided into shore on her surf board. She was graceful and made it look easy, in Albert's opinion. He was still surprised how she and Jet had picked up this new hobby. They had spent all summer in and out of the ocean. They tried to get Albert and Ivan to participate, but different hobbies took up their time.

Ivan learned quickly how to surf, but got bored and moved on to snorkeling and diving. Albert, on the other hand, had used this vacation to start an ambitious project. He started writing an opera set during the Germanic invasion of the Roman Empire. He took some of the elements of his life since Hilda's death and incorporated them into the libretto. The whole opera was taking a dark turn, so Albert set it aside in favor of sneaking newspapers into their private vacation spot.

Ivan quickly stashed the newspaper under the blanket when Jet and Frances started to walk over with their surfboards. Albert lay on the lumpy spot as Frances and Jet joined them on the beach blanket.

Jet shook his wet hair out and then waved a finger at Albert's nose. "Frances saw that. Hand it over."

"You were saying you want to go to Australia again. I was just scouting it out," Albert said, handing over the sandy newspaper. While Jet took it and scanned the front page, Albert turned to Frances. "I thought you were on my side."

"You're brooding again. You've been working too hard during this whole vacation." Frances picked up a towel and patted her damp hair.

"Writing music is a vacation," Albert countered.

Jet tossed aside the paper and sneered. "You want to go back to work, don't you? And you know the kind I mean. Doing some more break ins. " Jet sighed and slowly smiled. "Anyway, I have to find a way to afford that sweet Ducati for your birthday next month."

Albert shot him an exasperated look. "Why is it you want to buy something off your wish list for my birthday?"

"Because Christmas is too far away," Jet whined before getting a mischievous smirk. "Besides, you need a little excitement and danger in your life."

"You bring plenty of excitement and danger into my life, Johnny. I'm still not forgiving of that hijacking fiasco last May," Albert said, reminding Jet of the private charter plane they took control of from a Merchant of Death.

Jet groaned and flopped on his back. "I swear you said five minutes, not three. It's not my fault you jumped out too soon after you bagged the dough and ended up in the ocean. I did fish you out, after all. The ankle biter over there..." Jet hitched his thumb in Ivan's direction, "...didn't exactly show up on time, either. And one other thing... stop calling me Johnny! Ivan don't mind it, but I do!"

Albert chuckled. "How else am I supposed to irritate you? So are we off to Australia?"

Jet raised his head and looked over to Frances. "The waves are really bitchin' there."

"I've had enough water for now. Maybe something else?" Frances ventured.

"Hey! Maybe I'll try to get a job," Jet suggested. Albert, Frances, and Ivan's eyes all snapped around towards Jet. The three of them burst out laughing. Jet sat up and brushed sand off his shoulders, an indigent expression on his face. "I'll show you three. You just watch."

"You haven't had a legitimate job since the early seventies. Why break your streak now?" Albert asked. "Besides, what job would you get?"

"I'll figure something out."

Albert chuckled and gave Jet a warm smile. "You always do."

Jet's face flushed and he hopped up to his feet. That still hadn't changed with Jet; he still didn't take compliments well. But Jet certainly had develop more bravado, which Albert had predicted would happen as time passed them by. "Let's grab some dinner and decide where we want to go to next."

* * *

Junior's fist slammed into the boulder. It shattered and dust flew into the air. A shrill whistle sounded and he relaxed his battle stance. He looked over to where Chang was digging himself out of the ground. A large, black panther came plodding from the deep forest; it started morphing back into GB.

"Where did 008 go?" GB asked, now used to using their code numbers during training after several months. Junior looked above them and saw Pyunma standing on a tree branch.

Pyunma jumped down with grace and holstered his ray gun. The African cyborg's brow furrowed in confusion. "The exercise is over, but it's too soon?"

"All double zero cyborgs are to report to the war room immediately," a deep voice sounded over the loud speaker attached to the observation tower. Pyunma stalked towards the main Black Ghost base. GB and Chang followed, but Junior hesitated a second. He hated having to go into the cold, sterile base. He jogged and caught up with his cohorts in the hanger bay.

They made their way deep into the base and reached the war room. It was a simple room with a conference table, a podium, and a projection screen. Junior was surprised to see Scar standing behind the podium along with Gaia. What caught his eye was the young, quiet girl, Ann Ember, sitting at the end of the table. She was knitting a dark brown scarf, but her emerald eyes were fastened on all the cyborgs.

"Have a seat, gentlemen," Gaia announced and picked up a remote for the projector embedded in the wall. He lowered the lights and clicked the projector on. "You've been training all summer and your progress as a team has pleased us greatly. We feel it's time to reveal one the more important tasks you'll need to perform for us."

Gaia clicked a button on the remote control. A picture flared on the screen. Junior studied the picture of four people dressed in uniforms very similar to the one he was wearing. Theirs were dark green with light blue scarfs, and the woman's uniform had a pleated skirt. Other than that, the style was identical. This caused a sense of trepidation in the pit of Junior's stomach.

GB had worked all summer on the mystery of people who used to live here; there were barely any clues. Junior had a feeling he was now looking at the people in the letters found that first night they were awakened. Sure enough, he heard GB softly gasp and vigorously rub his hands together under the table.

"Meet your predecessors, the treacherous first generation double zero cyborgs," Gaia said. "Your first priority is to capture them and bring them back for justice."

"Justice?" Pyunma asked. "What crime did they commit?"

"They're unrepentant thieves and murderers," Scar replied. "All of them."

Gaia clicked the remote control and a picture of a graying, middle aged man came into focus. "This is 004. He is, for all intents and purposes, the ring leader of this little band. He was originally a German citizen known for murdering his wife at the Berlin Wall. He also has a record of turning people over to the East Berlin police."

Junior heard a hiss of disapproval from both Chang and Pyunma. GB asked, "What else has he done?"

"Lots of stealing. He's organized the others into a team of thieves. Last May they hijacked a plane from one of our sponsors. Too bad he didn't drown in the ocean that time."

"Out of curiosity, what was his given name?" GB asked.

"Albert Heinrich," Gaia spat out in contempt. He clicked the remote again. A close up of a tall, red headed teenager popped up. "This one, is very dangerous. He's 002. He was a gangster that murdered others in cold blood on the streets of New York, and it's thought that he was even involved in his own parents' murders. He's always in the presence of 004 and a willing accomplice to theft."

"What was his name?" GB asked. Gaia riffled through a file on the podium. He looked up with a suspicious expression.

"He goes by a lot of names. The most popular is Jet Link," Gaia said. GB nodded as Gaia clicked the remote again. "And this one is 003."

"What a looker," GB said. Junior mentally agreed the young woman was very attractive, but she also looked entirely too innocent to be involved in anything shady. "She doesn't look like a problem."

"Oh but she is. She travels with those two and helps them commit all sorts of crimes. We even believe she let those two murder her brother when he was going to turn them into the police," Gaia said.

GB shook his head. "A shame such a beauty would cast her lot with fellows like that."

"Indeed," Chang agreed.

"Don't let her looks deceive you. Frances Arnoul's heart is as rotten and as cold as they come. The three of them have no mercy, limits, or shame," Gaia warned. "They are all unrepentant liars. As a matter of fact, they will lie to you without hesitation. They spout off wild stories about our group of scientists. They've even lied outrageously that we kidnapped them. How absurd, seeing how we gave you all a choice. We only want to help humanity, not harm it. What would it benefit us to have unwilling candidates? We tried to give them second chances in their lives, but they took our gifts and now are using them for evil!"

"You're not to talk to them, just engage them in battle," Scar declared.

"Yes, sir," Pyunma said, glancing around the table. Junior didn't miss the doubt in Pyunma's eyes.

"Now this is Ann; you've seen her around the island. She will accompany you to help with this problem." Gaia clicked the remote and a new picture flared across the screen. It was a younger teenage boy with mismatched eyes: one blue, one brown. "Do not engage this cyborg directly. He's extremely dangerous. He a master psychic; Ann here, can match him and take him into custody."

"What's he doing with them?" Pyunma asked.

"He was persuaded to run away by 003. She knew he could capture them, so she exploited his youthful rebellion against his parents, the Gamos. Ivan Gamo is his name. Now that you've been introduced, we'll tell you how they were altered so you can make a plan of attack."

"Remember, it is utmost to my plans that you bring them under Black Ghost's custody. No verbal engagement. Also, remember all the generosity we've shown you four. We expect a return on our investment in your group," Scar said before leaving the war room. Junior repressed a shudder and looked around at his cohorts. They all wore the same uneasy looks he did.

Gaia cleared his throat and clicked the remote. "Let's start with 002's technical specs."

To be continued.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36:

"Welcome home. Did you have a nice vacation? I thought you were coming right home. Where have you guys been? How was Fiji?" Gilmore barraged the four cyborgs with questions the minute they entered the villa's front door.

"It was wonderful. We took a side trip to Australia," Albert said, setting his and Frances' suitcases on the floor.

"Thanks, Albert," Frances said, placing her purse on top of her suitcase. "Fiji has to be the most perfect place I've been. Gorgeous. Australia was wonderful, too. We did a lot of surfing and horseback riding."

"Except for the flight delays, everything went well," Ivan griped, shooting Albert a somber look.

Albert shook his head and lofted his right hand. "Airports are becoming more irritating now a-days. We'll have to figure something out. It certainly wasn't such a bother twenty years ago."

Jet tossed his suitcase aside and flopped down on a red velvet settee, ill-constructed for someone as tall as him. "Yeah, well... we chartered a plane and I flew it. No problems. We really should invest in a plane."

"Not a bad thought," Gilmore mused and started pacing a little.

"So what's shaking?" Jet asked.

Gilmore shook off whatever was on his mind and clasped his hands together. "Dressler visited a couple of weeks ago with some interesting information. Come have some lunch, and I'll tell you."

After the four cyborgs were seated at the kitchen table, Gilmore served them soup and pasta. Albert asked, "So what is Dressler up to?"

"He hasn't sold us out?" Jet asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but a little under a year ago the Black Ghost asked him to go to London and preform a surgery. It was for a child, and the surgery saved her life, which made him happy. He just a had a bad feeling about the situation. He had to bribe the hospital and it seemed shady."

"Why would the Black Ghost care about one child?" Ivan asked.

"That's what Dressler asked, but they told him it wasn't his business. He left well enough alone, feeling as if he was doing a good deed. I just want you to check it out. I wrote down all of Dressler's details so you should be able to track down the child."

"Sounds like a good idea, Doctor," Albert said. "We'll head out first thing in the morning."

* * *

Frances walked through the park, glancing around at the mothers and children on a pleasant Saturday morning. She was taken aback by the melancholy edging itself into her awareness. The memory of Albert telling her about the Black Ghost making her childless on Kozumi's deck caused a pang in her chest. She took a deep breath and pushed away her sorrow when she heard a woman call out the name "Rose!"

She turned to see lady with short, chestnut hair and a girl with bright red hair. The girl was chasing after a ball and her mother looked extremely worried. The girl caught up with the ball and jumped around with the prize. "See, Mum! I'm fine."

"Get back over here and have a little rest," her mother insisted, patting the bench she was sitting on. The girl shook her head and started tossing the ball back and forth with another girl.

Frances walked over to the woman and asked in English, "May I sit here?

"Oh, of course," the lady replied with a smile.

"You're daughter is very pretty," Frances complimented the woman.

"Thank you. I'm very fortunate to have her," the lady said. "My name is Sophie Meriwether, by the way."

"I'm Frances." The names matched Dressler's information.

"Are you new to the area? I can hear you're French."

"Yes, I'm only here for a little while. So, you said you were lucky to have your daughter? Rose is a lovely name that's not so common any more."

Sophie's eyes narrowed and her expression grew dark. "Her father gave it to her."

"Forgive me, if I said something wrong," Frances said, not missing the bitter tone.

"Oh my, I didn't mean to sound so dreadful. It's just that her father hasn't been reliable."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"He disappeared about a year ago. I'm sure he ran off with one of his harlots. Good riddance. I didn't want him around Rose, anyway, because of all his drinking."

"That's tragic. I lost my parents in a train accident when I was twelve. It would have been worse if my brother wouldn't have been able to support me," Frances said, feeling a wave of sympathy for the mother and daughter.

"The positive is that she's gradually recovered from a heart condition. The doctors thought she'd be gone by now, but her recovery has been miraculous. No one knows why, but I'm grateful every day. GB may have left me, but I'll always have my Rose. It was the only good think he left behind. Oh... you didn't come to hear me complain about my ex-boyfriend."

"It sounds like you've been too busy with Rose to talk about your feelings. It's quite okay. I don't mind listening," Frances said, giving her a sympathetic smile.

"Well, I hope you're luckier in love than me. Is that your husband? The man over there staring at you? He's a very handsome man." Frances looked over to see Albert was wearing his overcoat, jager hat, and gloves, which Frances knew would seemed out of place on such a warm day.

"No, just a very close friend," Frances said, picking up her purse. She stood and held out her hand to shake Sophie's. "It was a pleasure meeting you. I'll pray you and your daughter have a bright future. Please take care."

She swirled around and jogged over to Albert. He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and lead her down the London sidewalk. "So?" he asked her.

Frances shook her head. "There was no reason they helped the girl."

"What about the girl's father? Could he be a Merchant?"

"I don't think that at all. He seems as if he was a marginal person at best. The girl's mother told me he ran off, probably with another woman."

"So nothing?"

"Nothing. It does seem bizarre," Frances said. They walked in silence a little longer. "Albert?"

"Yes?"

"You've seemed to have peace in your life. I'm not as settled as you. I wonder how you came to peace without the family you were planning on. It would seem you have it worse then Jet or me, but you seemed to have adapted better than us over the years."

Albert's expression grew thoughtful. "Is there something specific on your mind?"

"Didn't you say you wanted children once?"

"I did. Hilda and I were trying. That opportunity is closed off to me now. I know I sometimes spend time in the past, but take it from me, live for the day. Take what's in front of you and make the most of it. In a way, the Black Ghost cursed us horribly, but look at what we can do with that curse. We can turn it into a blessing and save people. Our superhuman strength and advantages gives us a unique opportunity to fight against people who would bring war or enslave countries."

Frances felt her vision blur so she looked down at her shoes. Albert suddenly halted and patted her hand resting in the crook of his arm. He said, "But that's not quite a comfort to a young woman who was looking forward to having a life and a normal family."

"Sometimes, no," she admitted. She glanced up at him. He smiled gently at her and put his arm over her shoulders.

"I wish I could solve your problem, but I all I can do listen." He continued to lead her down the block.

She smiled up at him in spite of the tears that were threatening. "That's more than enough right now."

A car pulled up to the edge of the sidewalk. A flurry of car horns blared. Jet rolled down the window of the rental car and held up his middle finger to the passing motorists. "Screw you! Drive on the right side of the road, you asses!"

Albert's head flopped forward. "You know, sometimes being single is a blessing."

"Albert!" Frances' eyes widen, but then she snickered when Jet laid on the horn and flipped off more passing, honking traffic. After twenty years, she was immune to Jet's coarse behavior. "Did I mention how happy I was for you to have such a charming companion?"

Albert shot her a mock glare as they walked over to the car. "And he wonders why New Yorkers get a bad reputation around the world."

She got into the back, and Albert forced Jet to give up his driving duties. Jet lit a cigarette and snarled, "Do we have a lead?"

"Nope," Albert answered, pulling out smoothly into traffic. "There is something there, but Frances didn't find anything out of the ordinary. The girl's father disappeared, but he was disreputable."

"Enough of these dead ends. Let's find something to go after." Jet flicked his cigarette out of the open window, but before Frances could chastise him, Albert held up his right, gloved hand.

"Let's get home to Ivan. He'll have some thoughts on our next move."

* * *

"Your first solo mission will be to guard this aircraft," Scar announced to the second generation cyborgs standing before him in the hanger bay. Pyunma glanced over at the unnamed craft he'd been trained to fly over the last few weeks. "008 will fly it to the small base just north of Moscow. The Soviets were the highest bidders in this one. They United States has been overbearing in their hostility towards the Soviet Union. This will level the playing field for them." Scar handed Pyunma a packet with the flight information.

He nodded, confident in his recent flight training. "All of us are to go?"

"Yes. Even Ann Ember. From now on, you'll be guarding our supply lines. I want your team to conceal themselves each time you do these missions. Each time, treat it as an opportunity to

capture the first generation cyborgs. One day soon, they'll strike."

"Forgive me, sir, but are you sure they'll strike so soon?" GB asked, with deference towards Scar.

The eerie black mask turned towards GB. Pyunma was nervous for a moment that GB was about to be castigated, however, Scar was in an uncharacteristically generous mood. "We're resuming operations, but keeping your existence a secret. They'll get too tempted by the idea of instant wealth. They'll still think we haven't matched weapons to combat them effectively."

"Forgive me, yet again, sir, but even if they were to steal this aircraft, where would they sell it? It's too extravagant just to be sold outright."

Pyunma's teeth gritted together; he wanted to give GB a sharp elbow to his side. He noticed Scar's leather clad fist slowly clench. Pyunma was surprised when Scar answered, "They'll sell it to the Americans in hopes they'll strike at the Soviets. They want war and chaos so they can gain power. Any more questions?" Scar's frosty tone silenced GB.

"So we deliver the plane to this isolated base north of Moscow. 005 will monitor the communications. 007 and 006 will hide in the cargo bay, ready to pounce if the first generation cyborgs hijack us mid flight," Pyunma said.

"If you are able to deliver it with no first generation cyborgs showing up, take a small charter plane to Moscow and come back to Ghost Island with the money the Soviets give you. That's if you don't have the first generation cyborgs show up. If they do show up, subdue them and radio us immediately. They are your top priority. We'll pick them up personally. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. We'll finish making plans in the war room and leave next week. That should give enough time to get the attention of the first generation. The Soviets are bound to brag about it in an attempt to cow the United States," Pyunma said crisply and waved for the others to follow.

He glanced over his shoulder to see Ann was following them from a distance. He shook his head, not wishing to have a female along if fighting broke out. Scar was adamant, though. Until 001 was captured, she would be their shadow.

* * *

"This may be of interest to us," Ivan said, laying a newspaper beside Albert's bowl of oatmeal. Ivan sat across the table from him, a gloating smile firmly set. "We can do some real damage if we steal it and we can see how far they are getting technology-wise."

Albert put on his reading glasses and looked at the picture of an advanced aircraft on the front page of Pravda. "What does it say?"

"It's about a company giving this aircraft to the Soviets; it's paying cosmonauts a large sum of money to put it through rigorous testing. The company has some Black Ghost ties, so I think we should take it, or at least sabotage it. The United States is agitated over this and will want their own." Ivan then slid a copy the New York times over with the same story, only from the American perspective. "It could escalate the Cold War into something really horrible."

"Agreed, but this is an ambitious task. It's not as simple as breaking and entering a factory," Albert said. He glanced around the empty kitchen, glad it was just him and Ivan in this discussion. "Why do you want to go after such a risky target?"

"Haven't you noticed? The Merchants of Death have been very quiet about what they've been doing over the last year. I want to know why. Also, all the high level Black Ghost affiliated scientists have withdrawn to Ghost Island. No more lecture circuits, open research, or university positions, why? Something's not right, lately. And now, they're blatantly trying to help provoke the United States into war against the Soviet Union. To openly sell an aircraft like this is such a provocative move for the Black Ghost. They may have gathered more strength than I've anticipated. We must find out."

"The Soviets could have said no to the Black Ghost, and that's an issue for another day," Albert said, looking at Ivan over the top of his glasses. "I do agree, we should do something to stop this. It is big, but I'm not so sure this isn't some elaborate trick. I'm sure Jet will go along with us, but Frances may be worried about the scope of the project."

"What project?" Frances asked, coming in with a stifled yawn as she ambled over to the pot of hot oatmeal on the stove.

"We're going to steal this," Ivan said, taking the newspaper from Albert and held up the picture to Frances.

She inhaled deeply and shook her head. "That seems very risky."

"It'll keep the Soviets and the United States from going into a full blown war," Albert explained. "Still, how to steal it?"

"I have that figured out. I already know the only place they'll have it delivered. It's near Moscow. Erika used to take me there on assignments when I was child. I can teleport us there. We'll subdue the soldiers, and then Jet can fly us home in it. Dr. Gilmore approved of this when I asked him last night. He's afraid of how advanced their technology has gotten, so he does want a good look at it."

Frances sat at the table and said with a lot of trepidation, "We've been lucky over the years. It seems like this is pressing our luck."

"How are we to prepare for the Black Ghost if we don't know what's coming? We need to hit them early, now that it seems they're ramping up production again," Ivan insisted, rubbing furiously at his left eye. The white around the new, blue iris had long since become bloodshot, but Ivan refused to let any of the doctors near him since his last surgery.

"We should look into it," Albert encouraged.

She sighed and nodded. "When do we leave?"

"In two days," Ivan answered.

* * *

Pyunma looked over his shoulder to where Junior sat in front of a computer screen; he wore headphones and was concentrating on the blank screen.

"005?"

"Nothing. We can go in for the landing." Junior took off the headphones and joined Pyunma in the cockpit. He took a seat in the co-pilot's chair that was barely big enough for Junior's large frame.

Pyunma looked forward at the dusk sky and the shadowy landscape stretched out in front of them. "We have to keep alert. If they're going to attack us, it'll be on the ground."

"If they're watching, they'll noticed our uniforms the moment we get out of the plane."

"Good point. We'll grab those flight jackets and tuck our scarves in. They won't be tipped off that way," Pyunma said, pointing his thumb to the hatch. Beside it was a pile of old, oil stained canvas coats used by the technicians. He took a deep breath, but he couldn't banish the trepidation nagging his mind. "005... Junior... do you think they're guilty of what the Black Ghost accused them of?"

"The other cyborgs? I don't think we were told the whole story. I'm like GB, wanting to dig into the deeper mystery."

"Yes, but... all of us have a lot to lose if the Black Ghost has lied to us." Pyunma's family came to his mind. He was told they were doing fine, but he wondered.

"It's obvious they're exaggerating about the first four cyborgs, but we need to find out how deep the lies go," Junior said sagely.

"Yes. We need to have a plan to find out the truth if we run into them. I think I have one, but Ann needs to be dealt with while I talk to 007," Pyunma said. "I believe she's lurking in the cargo hold. Go down there and get 007 to come up and see me. Keep her distracted, too."

Junior nodded and hopped back out of the seat with a grace that didn't match his bulk. Pyunma waited patiently as he circled the aircraft above the small landing strip. GB finally marched over to Pyunma and hopped into the co-pilot's seat. He didn't like the scowl on GB's face. "So 005 says you wanted to have words with me for challenging Scar's orders earlier."

Pyunma snickered; he appreciated Junior's cleverness at appearing loyal to the Black Ghost in front of Ann. "No, that was a ruse for Ann. We wanted to make a plan to find out more about the first generation cyborgs."

"If we ever run into them. I don't know that they'll be as stupid as to hijack something like this."

"Ah, but that's the key I've been thinking about. If the Black Ghost are lying to us, the first generation are certainly going to target a mission like this. It means they'll be looking for a target with a purpose behind it; they'd have a loftier goal if they attacked tonight. If they're truly interested in only money, they'll continued with attacking Merchants of Death because it's easier money. Make sense?"

GB grew thoughtful and got a sly smile. "Yes, that'll be the key to this mystery. We'll see if they're benevolent or greedy. Judging from their actions, we cannot tell. But..." GB's expression grew dark. "If the Black Ghost is not truthful... then you know what that means."

Pyunma shivered at GB's implication. "I know. We all have a lot riding on the Black Ghost dealing with us fairly. It's better we know what we're really dealing with and make plans accordingly."

GB pursed his lips and nodded. "Agreed. I'm counting on Black Ghost being more honest than the first generation cyborgs; my daughter's life depends on it."

"I know, my friend. We'll figure it out, but I now need you to bring us information. I need you to take 003 apart from the men and then get the truth from her."

"I'll treat her with respect, but if the Black Ghost is right, I'll turn her in."

"I agree, but we need to be certain. Right?"

"Yes. What did you have in mind, specifically " GB asked.

"We'll distract 004 and 002 from her, while you get her side of the story. If she's more like the Black Ghost says, keep her and we'll use her as leverage against the men. If she's innocent, and the Black Ghost lied outrageously, then come back to where we'll be holding off 004 and 002. We'll retreat and figured it out from there."

"I'd think it wouldn't work if they're jaded like the Black Ghost claims, but..." GB got a folded piece of paper out of the top of his boot. It was the letter from Albert to Gianni. "...judging from this, they'd go through hell for each other. That's why we need to be very cautious. If they are so tight-knit, this idea of yours could be extremely dangerous."

"I know, but we need to find out." Pyunma concentrated on landing the aircraft. GB tucked the letter away in the top of his boot. After the landing, Chang, Junior, and Ann joined them near the hatch. The men threw on long flight jackets over their uniforms and Ann hid in the shadows beside the hatch. Her eyes narrowed and glowed a dim green in the dark.

Her eyes flew open and she smiled. She nodded enthusiastic, reluctant to talk because of 003 or 001. Pyunma got a knot in his stomach as anticipation of an upcoming fight hit. The Black Ghost had drilled them on the weaknesses and strengths of the first generation cyborgs, but he kept thinking about their former humanity. They were in the same position as the second generation cyborgs at one time. He took a deep breath and opened the hatch. He leaped to the grassy field and peered through the dusk light.

Indeed, there was a small tent for communications and a few cars off to the side, but nothing else. Not even trees were around to soften this landscape, just a large antenna beside the tent. Close by were a few hills across a lake. Pyunma noticed GB spying the landscape from the hatch; his confidence soared thinking about the three other men he was teamed with. All were as thorough as GB, and good fighters, too.

Minutes later, a young teen, maybe fifteen at most, stepped from the communications tent. He was dressed in a green uniform just like Pyunma's red one. He didn't look at all like the last picture Pyunma had seen of 001, an adult, but he figured this teen was him, somehow. The boy rubbed his bloodshot, left eye and fixed him with an aggravated expression.

"Surrender!" he exclaimed in English. Pyunma knew a little English from his Christian missionary education, but the translator in his brain echoed the word anyway. Seconds later the three other second generation cyborgs leaped down from the plane and stood behind him.

"We're not doing as you want, 001," Pyunma said, figuring the three other first generation cyborgs were in the tent.

And indeed, the three other first generation cyborgs come from the tent, seeming confident. All were dressed in their dark green uniforms with the light blue scarves. He itched to subdue them and get back to his African home.

001 looked stunned when Pyunma and the other three shrugged off the heavy, canvas flight coats to reveal their red uniforms with yellow scarves. The other original cyborgs gasped and flinched back; all looked shocked.

"Let me introduce ourselves," GB said, stepping forward and giving them a low, elegant bow. "We're your replacements."

"The hell you are." 002 fingers twitched beside his ray gun, but 004 grabbed his wrist to still hostilities. Pyunma tensed a little, but waved for the others to stay calm. He wasn't ready to fight them just yet.

* * *

Frances couldn't believe she was seeing these four men in front of her in the same type of uniforms. She knew the Black Ghost always had distant plans to create more people like her and her companions. This was a reality she wasn't ready to comprehend.

Albert stepped forward and pushed her back towards Jet. The New Yorker put her behind him and stepped forward to back up Albert. Albert crossed his arms and frowned at the group of four men. "So, are you some sort of cyborgs?"

"At your service," a bald, older man said, straightening from his bow. "It would seem your former employers want a word with you about your sticky fingers.

"Surrender now," the handsome, ebony skinned man demanded in accented English.

"Employers?" Albert asked coolly before Jet had a chance to mouth off. "Don't you mean kidnappers?"

"Enough talk! Attack them!"

Frances looked up to see Ann Ember at the plane's hatch. She leaped to the ground. She still looked all of fourteen after all these years, but her aggressive expression seemed to age her. Her hands were clenched tight as her eyes started to glow green. She turned her palms towards Albert.

"Ann! Don't!" Ivan shouted and rushed to put himself between Albert and Ann. A bluish haze appeared. She flinched back and pointed at Ivan. His head jerked back and he fell to the ground. The bluish haze faltered. Ann crumpled forward, her eyes drooped closed.

"Ivan!" Frances shouted. She ran over to the unconscious Russian.

"Come with me, Mademoiselle zéro zéro trois," the balding cyborg said in French and then morphed into a giant eagle before her eyes. Her amazement froze her for half a minute. It was just long enough for the eagle to swoop in the air and dive for her incredibly quickly. She turned to run, but she felt the talons around her arms.

She was lofted in the air, in spite of her scream. She struggled against the talons and the grip changed where he was now squeezing her around her chest and torso. The grip was painfully tight. She heard Jet scream her name before she blacked out.

* * *

Ivan woke up and looked around. The mindscape was familiar. It was a meddow, but now there were dry patches where nothing grew. He looked towards the center of the mindscape. There was a pile of stone that was once a tower; it confirmed where he was.

_:Ann! Where are you?:_

_ :Right here.: _She started to appear in front of his eyes. Once her form was solid, she scowled at him.

_:I've been waiting for this:_

_ :There is no need for this. If Erika put you up to attacking me...:_

Ann's eyes began to tear up and the girl grew furious._ :She can't, Ivan, she died! So did your father! I'm all alone!:_

Ivan's emotions grew into a frenzied tangle as he took in the information. He couldn't comprehend the Gamos ever dying. There was a cold relief that wrestled with grief in the pit of his stomach.

_:Now I'm alone...:_

_ :Ann, you can come away with me now. I don't see any reason why you should stay with the Black Ghost. Katerina said you were to stay and train with Erika. You can join us now.:_

_ :No! I promised Erika, I'd stay and serve the Black Ghost. I will fulfill her wish for me, unlike you! Selfish! Ungrateful... You're so hateful to people that loved you!:_

_ :Loved me? They mutilated me!:_

With that, she crouched down and laid her hand on the ground. Ivan threw up his mental defenses. She then projected, _:I know the one weakness you posses and I will exploited it.:_

Ivanwasn't surprised to feel his emotions start to rise to a peaked level as Ann's eyes glowed a bright green. There was no way he could beat her in an empathy battle, so he had to figure a way to catch her off guard.

* * *

Albert saw Jet's rockets flare as he took off towards Frances and the shape shifting cyborg. He was horrified to see the giant, ruddy skinned cyborg grab Jet by the ankle before he got seven feet into the air. The giant cyborg then slammed Jet, back first, into the frosty, hard soil.

Albert lofted his hand towards the giant, but before he could take aim, a plume of fire drove him towards the left. He turned to see the short, rotund cyborg. Before he could do anything, the ebony skinned cyborg pounced on Albert from behind and put him in a full nelson hold.

"You're not going anywhere, 004! Give up!" he demanded in accented English.

"Never!" Albert said, amazed at this cyborg's strength. He flipped the cyborg over his shoulders and onto the ground. Quickly, the cyborg jumped to his feet, so Albert took a slash at the cyborg's throat with the edge of his left hand. The cyborg dodged, and Albert glanced over at Jet. The giant was effectively keeping him pinned to the ground. Albert's stomach sank as he regretted letting Ivan talk him into this.

To be continue.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37:

Frances took in a deep breath and coughed, struggling for her next breath. She shook off her dizziness and sat up slowly. The Russian evening was cool and dark, but she could see by the light of the full moon easily enough. Her bald kidnapper was now a human again.

He had his back to her. He only wore his scarlet trousers and boots, but he was starting to put on his jacket, his yellow scarf still at his feet. The bald man glanced over his shoulder at her.

"Don't worry about anything. I'm a perfect gentleman, they just hadn't figured out how to make my uniform more flexible yet. One day soon." He quickly scooped up his scarf, tied it, and turned to her.

He held up empty hands as she reached for her ray gun. "I'm not armed, 003, so it would be rather unsporting of you to shoot without having a little chat with me."

She nodded. "So you're also a cyborg? Were you recently changed?"

"Not quite a year ago. I'm number seven, to be precises."

"How many in all?"

"In our group, the second generation, there are four."

"Second generation? How horrible for you. We'll certainly help you," Frances said, a wave of sympathy for the man hit her, but she was still a little leery of him.

"Help us? We volunteered, but..." The man started pacing a little, his lips twisting into a frown. "We're not exactly sure if the Black Ghost made fair deals with us. They didn't tell us about you four until recently. They say you got changed like us and then ran off to commit crime and destruction around the world."

Frances shook her head vigorously. "No, no, no. We weren't volunteers, they kidnapped us! Please believe me!"

His scrutinizing gaze on her softened and he nodded. "We had a feeling that might be the case."

"You can leave them and join us. They're horrible people. They kidnapped the four of us twenty years ago and forced this on us. They caught up to us once after we escaped, and … those were some pretty black times for us. We managed to escape again, but then we knew there was no other way to live except if we started stealing from the Merchants of Death. It also serves to slow down their plot to cause world wide war. We never take things from innocent bystanders. We've suffered at their hands, and we know the world will suffer if they're not stopped. You must believe me. The four of you must leave them, too! They will only use you to cause war!"

The bald man's face grew incredibly grim. "We can't. They offered us these huge favors. In return, we must serve them. I just can't risk my daughter's life."

Frances gasped suddenly and stood on shaky feet. She walked over to the man and touched his elbow. "Do you go by the initials GB? And you're from London? "

He looked startled, but nodded. "That's what I go by and where I'm from. How did you know?"

"Because I met your daughter and your girlfriend recently. We had word that the Black Ghost had preformed a surgery on a child. At the time I didn't think it would be a possibility you were involved. The connection wasn't obvious because we had no idea they were ready to make more cyborgs."

He grabbed Frances' bruised arms, very desperate. "How are Sophie and Rose? Please tell me."

"Rose seems completely healthy. I watched her playing. Sophie... well...she's hurt that you left without telling her."

"I couldn't. It was part of the deal," GB said, letting go of Frances' arms. "And the other three are in the same type of shape I'm in. You see why we can't just escape like you and your gentlemen friends did. Oh, speaking of which."

GB reached to the top of his right boot and handed her a folded piece of paper. "I think Gianni and Albert would want this back."

"Gianni? How would you know Jet's given name?" Frances asked, taking the paper and unfolding it with curiosity. Her enhanced eyesight easily read the letter from Albert to Jet.

"It seemed rather personal. I found it in, I guess, your old dormitory."

She reread the letter just to make sure she understood Albert's sentiment, but the line at the end caught her attention the most: '_Also, be very careful and keep yourself safe for my sake, if not your own. I can't stand the idea of loss... Yours, Albert.' _She looked up at GB and murmured, "It must have been from that second time we were imprisoned. I guess even then they were in..." Frances stopped herself, before revealing too much.

Her face started to redden as she folded it back and tucked it in her belt. It was the first unvarnished glimpse she had into Albert's feeling for Jet. Jet and Albert were very circumspect around her, even thought she accepted their relationship without reservation. Only recently had they been slightly more demonstrative around her and Ivan.

GB raised a curious eyebrow, but didn't say anything at Frances' sudden silence. "I'll tell the others. I do believe you. We have to figure things out before leaving the Black Ghost. It seems our situation is vastly more complicated than yours, considering a lot of our loved ones could be held hostage and other various, nasty things."

"Let us help you," Frances pleaded.

"We'll meet your crew some other time. Keep attacking the Black Ghost, but be careful. I'll tell your gentlemen friends where you're at," GB said, transforming into an eagle again. He took off into the night air, leaving Frances feeling numb and scared. Mostly, she was frustrated she couldn't help that girl's father out of the dire situation he'd worked himself into. She fell back to the ground and sat trembling, praying Albert and Jet would fetch her soon.

* * *

Ivan flinched back. Ann's empathy attack was swift and strong. A crushing black depression invaded his mind. It loomed large. There was a need to tear at his skin to distracted from the mental pain trickling into his thoughts.

He crumpled to his knees and made an effort to reach for any of his abilities. He found they were at such a distance now. He looked over at her, apathy over his fate started bubbling up.

Ann walked over to him and looked down in disdain, her eyes glowing green. _:Now you know how I feel. I grieve over loosing the Gamos, but you... you're cold about it! I hate you for that! I hate you for leaving! You should have stayed!:_

_:No, I couldn't.:_ Ivan wrestled to use telepathy; it was more Ann drawing his thoughts out. A slow, icy, numbing indifference pushed at him. It colored his feelings towards his mission to destroy the Black Ghost and protect the world. The the same indifference trickled towards his memories of Albert, Jet, and Frances. He gasped, knowing he gave Ann an a soft spot to attack by not shielding his thoughts about them.

Her cold laugh startled him. _:So you're jealous! Intensely, bitterly jealous of the friendship between those three. You're a freak like me... like your mother and your father! You belonged with us, not them. How do they repay you? They just use you.:_

_:No! They care for me a great deal.:_ He struggled with the concept that his friends weren't using him, but he felt it was more lip service to get Ann to back down.

_:They fear you! Admit it!:_

Ivan took a shaky breath as panic hit him, panic at the idea of being used and feared, but never loved. A surge of raw anger flared up in him, he threw his head back and screamed. He sank into an inky blackness, dragging himself from Ann's mind back into his own mindscape. Even when he was back in his own skin, he found himself unable to jolt his body awake.

* * *

Jet had lots of stars in his eyes as he attempted to get the giant cyborg's hands off his shoulders. "Get off me, you big dip stick!"

"Stay down. I don't want to hurt you," the man ordered in perfect American English. Jet was put off, having not heard an American dialect in years. He quickly snapped out of it and brought his knee, hard, up into the cyborg's left side.

The man jerked slightly, but didn't let go of his hold. Jet's tongue flicked his right molar. His acceleration device hummed. Jet was suddenly deaf to the fighting around him, everything frozen. He again hit the giant cyborg in the left side with his knee, repeatedly. His acceleration device abruptly shut down and the sound of fighting crashed painfully into his ears.

He was pleasantly surprised to see the giant now sprawled five feet away to his right. He hopped up quickly to go help Albert, now engaged in a fist fight with the ebony skinned cyborg. The ebony skinned cyborg leaped backward and the pudgy cyborg let loose a blast of fire towards Albert. The German cyborg fell backwards to the ground, seeming dazed.

"Stop it!" Jet shouted and ran for the pudgy cyborg. The pudgy cyborg turned towards him and blew an intensely hot plum of fire his way. It drove Jet several steps backwards.

"Now you people are really hackin' me off!" Jet reached for his ray gun, attention on the pudgy cyborg. That's when he was shoved to the ground, face first. The giant put his knee in between Jet's shoulder blades and aimed a ray gun at his temple.

"Enough! Stay still and stop fighting."

Jet couldn't quite struggle under the massive weight of this cyborg, he was just too incredibly strong. Still, Jet was never one to give up, not ever. Especially, when Albert could be hurt. He stilled himself and waited, figuring the cyborg would ease up and then he could fight back.

Before that happened, the huge eagle, with scarlet fabric in talon, reappeared and morphed back into a man. He crouched on the ground beside the rotund fire breather, his uniform now in a hand.

"004, 002, stop struggling and I'll let you know where 003 is! We'll let you go in a minute!" the bald cyborg shouted as he jogged to the communication tent and ducked in. Minutes later, he came out clothed and carrying a briefcase. Jet knew that was the case of money the Soviets had brought to exchange for the aircraft. "I've got our answer and this."

The pressure on Jet's back eased up, but the giant kept his ray gun trained on Jet's face. Jet slowly got to his hands and knees and looked over to Albert. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, worried over how still Albert was.

He looked over towards the other cyborgs; intense malice filled the pit of his stomach. The giant American Indian went towards the plane and scooped up Ann, ignoring Ivan. Both were still unconscious. He kept his eyes on the four strange cyborgs and the one unconscious girl-child psychic, fearing another attack. He was relieved to see them retreat, leaving Ivan alone. They went to one of the three cars at the edge of the airstrip. He got to his shaky feet. He was unnerved when the landscape whirled around him and his ears rang.

He focused on Albert's still form and struggled to walk a straight line towards him. Jet collapsed to his knees as a clammy wave over took him. "Jet?" Albert's voice was so craggy.

"How are you?" Jet asked, noticing Albert's uniform was scorched in places, small embers covered the fabric before they faded to dark. Albert coughed horribly as Jet gently took him by the shoulders and dragged him onto his lap. "Albert, come on... please be alright."

Albert's eyes opened slightly. He reached up slowly and laid his metallic hand on Jet's cheek, but Jet flinched away, his face singed. "You're burning up, Al."

Albert's arm dropped to his side as one of the cars pulled up to them. The bald shape changer hung his head out of the window. "She's ten miles due east."

"Drop dead twice, you bastards!" Jet howled, eyes watering in outrage.

The bald cyborg pulled a disapproving face. "Considering we just gave you a gift," he pointed at the advanced aircraft, "I think you should thank us."

With that, the car with the second generation cyborgs speed off into the night. Jet's teeth ground together painfully tight, enough so that the wiring scars on his gums were tingling.

"Jet, fly and get Frances," Albert said, weakly. Jet eased Albert off his lap and stood, but almost fell backwards, the ringing in his inner ears climbed. He straightened up and jumped slightly, boosters on. Seconds later, he crashed into the ground. He pounded his fist into the hard, cold soil. Frustration and rage battled for dominance over Jet.

"I can't fly, Al. I can't!"

"No, we can and we will get Frances." Albert slowly rolled over and stood on wobbly legs. Jet was quick to support him under Albert's right arm. "Let's load Ivan on the aircraft and get Frances that way."

"What if it's a trap?"

"I don't think so, but we won't go directly to Sicily. Those guys were holding back, so that tells me they had some other motive other than serving the Black Ghost."

"Yeah, makes sense."

"Think you can at least fly this aircraft?"

"Don't know... too dizzy, I feel drunk, only without the happy buzz. We got to try for Frannie's sake."

As they helped each other towards Ivan, Jet remembered Frances' hands clasped with his before he was dragged from his cell during their second stay on Ghost Island. He didn't care about his damages, he'd overcome it and bring Frances to safety now that he knew Albert could carry on.

* * *

Frances didn't know how long she'd been balled up, sitting on the ground, but her mood lifted when her hearing caught the sound of a plane. She stood on her unsteady feet and saw it was the advanced aircraft. Her mouth grew dry at the thought that the second generation had defeated Albert and Jet and were now coming after her.

The aircraft's landing was a little lopsided, Frances could tell watching Jean-Paul land enough to know. It came to rest and the hatched opened a minute later. Jet hung out of the hatch, horribly swaying. "Come on, Frannie, let's beat feet."

She jogged over as quickly as she could and raised her hands. Jet caught one, and Albert the other. She was surprised how warm Albert's metal hand was as they pulled her inside. She looked over her male companions and they were in grim shape.

Albert had burns and bruises on his face and fleshy, left hand, his uniform was singed. His mechanical hand looked as if it was seized in an unnatural claw shape. Jet's nose was obviously broken, and his eyes would have raised bruises by the morning. Most troubling, Jet had some sort of uncontrollable tremors.

"Where to, Albert?" Jet asked in a voice a little too serene for Frances' liking.

"Kozumi. He'll take us in and and Gilmore can meet us there. Plus, we can hide this ship in the bay beside Kozumi's house. We have to make sure it's clean of any tracking devices before we head for the Mediterranean."

Jet leaned against the bulkhead and slowly made his way to the cockpit with its support. Frances stood to her feet but fell forward beside where Albert sat. He patted her head with his left hand. "Don't worry, we'll make it there."

"Ivan?" she asked, looking to the back of the ship where he lay inert.

"Don't know what Ann did to him yet," Albert answered as Jet got the plane in the air. "Can you help Jet? He's having difficulty seeing and hearing clearly."

Frances nodded and made her way to the cockpit. She slid into the co-pilot's seat as a wracking coughing fit took hold of her. Jet glanced over to her. "You sound like how I feel."

"He didn't mean to hurt me, but I think I'm pretty bruised. Not nearly like you and Albert."

"Bastard," Jet mumbled, but she could certainly hear the venom. She helped Jet for several hours, relief setting in only when Jet brought the aircraft to rest in the shallow bay close to Kozumi's house. Jet turned to Frances and gave her a lopsided smirk. "Isn't this how we met? Only we boosted a sub that time."

She laughed a little as they left the cockpit. Albert was propped up by the hatch, totally still. Albert shook his head. "I'm afraid my arm and legs are useless," he said bleakly.

Jet knelt beside him. He fixed Albert with a hard glare. "No way are you flakin' out on me, daddy-o. You're the toughest cat I know."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Albert said. He struggled to stand even with Jet's help. "One thing for certain. This game of ours just got a whole lot more dangerous."

"Damn straight," Jet said solemnly. Frances went to check on Ivan, but he was in such a deep sleep. He seemed icy cold to the touch, but there was nothing she could do to help him at the moment. They could barely drag themselves around, Ivan would be difficult to carry. She brushed back his bangs and said before leaving the ship with Jet and Albert, "I promise, we'll be right back with some help. Hopefully, soon."

Frances wasn't really surprised to see Kozumi jogging towards the bay to greet them; she was sure the aircraft made a horrible racket. She hoped Gilmore would get here as fast as possible. She felt extremely vulnerable with them all is such bad shape.

* * *

"So?" Pyunma asked. He sat in the backseat with GB, Ann rested in between them still in a deep trance. Junior was driving and Chang was in the passenger seat, clutching the suitcase full of money.

"It's as we feared. Those four were kidnapped and forced to undergo cybornization. Black Ghost was going to use them as weapons to spark wars and world chaos. Well, they wanted their freedom back so they escaped. It seems they were caught one time after that and they were brutalized. At least, according to 003. That's why they decided to turn to a life of crime. The Merchants of Death owed them a living, in their way of thinking. Not only that, they feel like they're preventing world domination by the Black Ghost by stealing from them. I will say, 003 was very convincing."

"That makes total sense," Pyunma said, clenching his fist. He pounded it against the car door in frustration. "Only this time the Black Ghost figured it would be smarter and extort us to keep us in line."

"Then we've been played for fools," Chang lamented.

"Even so, we got some valuable things in the deal. We have to be careful and decide how to protect those things and not aid the Black Ghost if they want war," GB said.

"Agreed," Pyunma said. "They'll know we engaged the first generation in conversation if we confront them. Let's act loyal and make plans."

"What about the first generation cyborgs? The Black Ghost will expect us to bring them in," Chang said.

GB shook his head. "Even if we were the ruthless types to catch them and take them to the Black Ghost, I certainly don't think they'll grant us our freedom. I'm getting the feeling they'll want us around a lot longer than our contracts say. If they've been pursuing them for twenty years, well, you figure out our chances of ever leaving."

"We'll figure out something," Pyunma said.

"I don't think we should count the first generation as allies yet. I think they may hold a grudge against us after tonight," Junior pointed out. "That acceleration device makes 002 pretty dangerous."

"003 did offer to help us. I think it was sincere. Maybe we should take her up on her offer," GB said.

"Next time, we'll have a long conversation with them," Pyunma said, just as their car reached the edge of Moscow.

* * *

Gilmore and Kaminari arrived the day after the first generation cyborgs had shown up on Kozumi's doorsteps. Kozumi had made the cyborgs as comfortable as possible, but their conditions hadn't improved.

"Where are they?" Gilmore asked franticly, following Kozumi upstairs.

"They're in very bad shape. I recommend you see Albert first. He's unable to move his limbs. Frances caught a really horrible chest cold, but I've given her an herbal remedy. She got bruised up, but she'll be fine with some more rest. Jet... well... I just can't figure him out. He has some sort of concussion, and I've help with his biological side, but his electronics are beyond my understanding."

"I'll handle Albert," Kaminari offered. They got to the top floor of the house and Kozumi opened one of the guest room doors. They walked into the darkened room with two beds. Albert lay on one, his left arm draped over his eyes. Jet, rather than resting in the other bed, was balled up on the floor beside Albert's bed. Gilmore flung his jacket on a chair and rolled up his sleeves.

"Jet, you need to get into bed," Gilmore ordered. Jet showed no signs of moving so he went and felt Jet's forehead.

The New Yorker looked up at Gilmore; he could tell Jet was exhausted and in a lot of pain. "It'll be fine in just a moment."

He got Jet to his feet, and he swayed horribly. "Doc, I'm going to puke."

"Don't do that! I think I know what's wrong."

He got Jet to lay on his stomach in the empty bed. He looked over to Kaminari, who had been carrying their equipment in a large, black suitcase. After Kaminari set it down and got to examining Albert, Gilmore rummaged through the case . He got out a thick, portable computer and some wires. He exposed the nape of Jet's neck and peeled off a small amount of artificial skin. He found a small port and plugged one end of the wire into it. The other he hooked into the computer and brought up the diagnostic.

"This is going to be an easy fix. Jet, you may want to hang on tight to the bed, though. You're about to have one wild ride," Gilmore said and hit enter. The screen flashed with an empty circular chart that start to slowly shade in as the word "recalibrating" flashed repeatedly on the screen.

"Oh now I really am going to hurl!" Jet howled, in time for Kozumi to bring over a trashcan. Jet kept it together, though, and turned his head to look at Gilmore. "What are you doing?"

"It seems the gyroscope we implanted in your head got a good whack and just needed to be recalibrate so it can read magnetic north again. Otherwise you'll just keep corkscrewing into the ground every time you try to fly."

"My ears are ringing. Can you fix them?"

"That'll go away because your gyroscope is wired to your inner ears." Gilmore looked over to Kaminari.

The Italian scientist gave a rueful shake of the head after assessing Albert. "This is not going to be so simple."

* * *

"Money, but no cyborgs! And you lost the aircraft to them," Scar observed from this throne. Pyunma could hear the irritation in his voice. "And Miss Ember is still out."

"They were really difficult, Sir. They over powered us once we landed and took the plane before we could stop them," Pyunma said. He wasn't nearly as good as GB at lying, but he was the one responsible for the others. He hoped he was believable. The other three were standing behind him, all looking blameworthy.

"You incompetent idiots! We spent a fortune on you for results!"

"002's acceleration device really took us off guard," Pyunma said.

"You'd been warned," Scar pointed out. "Your next foray better yield results, or there will be consequences. Out of my sight!"

They bowed their heads in acknowledgement and swiftly left the throne room. They were silent until they reached their dorm room. They sat on the corners of their respective beds, all wearing dire expressions.

"Well, that went a whole lot better than I expected," GB said with an attempt at levity.

"We cost too much for them to push us too hard, at least for now," Pyunma said cynically. "Before too long, though, they'll lose patience with us. We got to figure out what we want to do."

"This is a bleaker fate than the reeducation camp. Being used as weapons to promote war, that is if 003 told the truth, is not something I want," Chang said.

GB frowned and nodded. "She told the truth all right. Her sincerity was undeniable. Trust me, I know a liar when I see one. I was a professional liar for years, so I know my own kind."

"What will it cost us to escape?" Chang asked.

"More than we can afford, I fear," Pyunma replied.

"We'll have to have the first generation cyborgs' help to leave the Black Ghost," Junior pointed out.

"Do you think they'll help us?" Chang asked.

"I'm certain they will. 003 has a kind heart," GB said.

Junior shook his head. "The other one, 002... I'm not so sure he has a forgiving nature."

GB chuckled. "Well, 003 let a little something slip. I was able to put another piece of the puzzle together along with that overly sentimental letter 004 wrote him. I'm going to keep it to myself for now, because it's irrelevant to our situation, but I think 004 has more sway over him than you think."

Chang stood and clasped his thick hands together. "I'll make us some dinner and we can talk some more."

* * *

Frances woke and stood from the bed in Kozumi's house. She draped a blanket around her shoulders. Her head was pounding, but she had a need to see if her friends were well. Before she left the room she paused and went to her uniform. She found the fold noted and took it with her down the hallway to where Albert and Jet were.

She knocked at the door lightly. "It's me."

"We're all decent," Jet called out.

She entered the room and was pleased to see Jet sitting up on a bed while Gilmore finished patching up Jet's nose with bandages. She was afraid he'd be a lot worst.

"You cyborgs had me worried to death," Gilmore fumed.

"We're all right, Doctor," 003 said.

"No, we aren't! Those jerks are out there and I'm going to settle the score with them!" Jet pounded his fist into his palm and fixed Frances with a harsh expression. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. You?"

"Yeah, I'll live," Jet answered tersely and hopped off the bed. He waved Gilmore off. "Get to Albert already!"

"What about Ivan?" she asked Gilmore.

"Deep coma. He's fine physically, but I don't have any idea when he'll wake up. Soon, I hope. Kozumi has him in the basement lab and is trying to bring him around."

She looked over to were Kaminari was examining Albert's mechanical arm with a jewelers loop. Albert was without his shirt so she could see the multitude of burn marks that glistened with some healing salve. Gilmore walked over to Kaminari and asked, "Well?"

Kaminari shook his head. "This is going to be a major undertaking. We'll have to rewire just about everything in his arm and legs. It'll take us several days to a week."

"I had that feeling," Albert said, frowning.

"But we can fix it, so don't be so down," Kaminari said. The mood in the room grew dismal, so Frances walked over to Jet. His eyebrow quirked upwards when she held up the folded paper.

"007 gave me this to give back to you."

Jet took it and unfolded it with bafflement, then he started reading. His face took on a softer expression and a reddish hue. He went over and sat on the left side of Albert's bed. He handed Albert the note. Albert squinted at it, not having his reading glasses, but understanding hit his eyes.

"What is it?" Gilmore asked.

"A letter I wrote Jet a long time ago. I was a little on the sentimental side," Albert answered, giving Jet a lopsided grin. "These other cyborgs, from them holding back, to them returning this to Jet, it would seem they're trying to figure us out. We need to be cautious."

"Well, let's take your arm and legs off so we can get to work. Then you can discuss this business with the other cyborgs," Kaminari said.

Jet took Albert's left hand in his. Frances noticed the two scientists' eyes grew wide. They didn't say anything but eyed them curiously before going over to their big suitcase. She quickly and quietly left. If Jet was being that openly demonstrative, she knew he'd want to be alone with Albert after this terrible procedure.

* * *

Ryu looked up from his inherited mahogany desk when there was a knock at the study door. It was Akira wearing a bright smile. "I'm back from Monaco."

"Congratulations on your race. First place. I expected nothing less from someone bearing the Shimamura name. Come in. I have a few things to do and then we'll go for dinner. You can explain to me why you're three days later than I expected."

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." Akira moved from the doorway and tugged a willowy blond girl in with him. They were holding hands, Ryu noted with a little worry. She seemed to be very bashful, moving closer to Akira's arm. "Ryu, this is Julie. I wanted you to meet her right away. We got married right after the race."

Ryu easily covered his intense rage with a warm smile; he'd inherited the ability to flawlessly mimic any emotion from his mother, and he could see by Akira's pleased expression, it worked. Ryu stood and extended his hand towards the shy girl. She shook his hand, smiling. Ryu admitted to himself he wasn't all that surprised that his cousin would do something so rash.

"Welcome to the family," Ryu said with a pleasant, joyful tone. He'd have to contact his lawyers first thing in the morning to plot around this unpleasant news. Ryu hoped the girl wasn't pregnant, or would become that way, before he could convince Akira to get a quick divorce. And if he couldn't get Akira to put her out, he'd bribe her into leaving.

To be continued.

_Quick programming note: WingedPanther73 and I are going to start the "Frances owns a male strip club" story that was an idea brought up by my Tumblr buddies: Silvermoon602, cinerari, skyghost, & tabbywilder. See my Tumblr account for details. Yes, it is a comedy, but will have some serious moments. We're really having blast working on the rough outline. Also, Inertbiscuit drew a hysterical piece of artwork for this idea. Go check out her deviant art account for a good chuckle._


	38. Chapter 38

Special thanks to my wonderful husband for helping me get into how men think in this one.

Chapter 38:

Albert held his fork in his left hand and tried to break through the piece of chicken on his plate, but after several awkward tries he shoved his plate and fork across the table. It landed on the floor in a mess. He flopped back in his wheelchair and glared at Jet, who was wordlessly cleaning up the mess on the kitchen floor.

"I'll get you something else if you want," Jet offered, looking as helpless as Albert was, still without his right arm and legs. From the knees on down and from the right elbow on down there was nothing, and it was a constant, nagging reminder to Albert about the second generation cyborgs.

"Forget it. Just leave it," Albert snapped. Jet's eyes narrowed, but rather than say anything nasty, he nodded and got rid of the chipped plate and wasted food.

Jet cast a look over his shoulder at the German cyborg. "Albert, you haven't been yourself." His bleak thoughts froze and he paid attention to Jet because he used his full, first name rather than 'Al.'

"Say what's on your mind," Albert said flatly, getting annoyed at Jet's very presence.

"I'm no good a pep talks and all, but you've been through worse than this. You haven't said five civil words to me in three days since we fought those other cyborgs. You've been rude to the doctors and Frances, which ain't cool. You can take it out on me, because I'm a big boy that grew up with a lot worse than you're dishing out. Besides, you've dealt with more than your fair share of shit from me all this time. But Frannie don't deserve it, and neither do the docs."

"If Frances and the doctors don't like my company, they can leave me alone. That goes for you too," Albert said, pointedly.

Jet slowly glowered. "Hey, be a bastard all you want. I may have to stay under the same roof as you, but I'll go sofa surfing if you keep this shit up."

"Maybe some peace and quiet would suit me just fine," Albert said, through gritted teeth.

"Fine," Jet said almost too quiet to hear. "You've frosted me out. You want to go through it alone, that's your choice."

"Good news," Gilmore said with a bright smile as he came in the kitchen. Albert turned to the scientist, peeved he didn't have a chance to finish arguing with Jet. Gilmore's smile fell and he gave them a scrutinizing look. He coughed slightly in his hand and asked, "Did I interrupt something?"

To Albert's irritation, Gilmore had been walking on egg shells around him and Jet now that he understood that they were more than friends. It was one more thing pushing Albert's limits.

"Not a damn thing," Jet mumbled and turned to get his own lunch from the stove.

"Well, your legs are almost finished," Gilmore said.

"My arm?" Albert had a deep trepidation at the answer.

Gilmore shook his head. "Parts are a huge concern. The upgrades were really advanced. It could possibly take a lot longer than a week if Kaminari and I have to build the circuitry from scratch."

"So are there parts I can go get to speed it along?" Jet asked, abandoning his lunch.

"No! You'll stay put!" Albert snapped.

"I'll do what I want, you stubborn jerk!" Jet snapped back, fists balled.

"You're not getting your fool self killed for some damn circuits. Forget it," Albert insisted; a fluttering panic hit his stomach. The idea of Jet facing those four strange cyborgs alone was more than he could cope with at the moment.

"You can't stop me!"

"Listen, Jet, I think Albert is correct. We have virtually no information on those opposing cyborgs. In spite of what Frances said, we still need to be cautious."

"Stay out of my business with Jet, Gilmore," Albert said, and then fixed Jet with an icy stare. "You're not going any where! And that's the end of it."

Jet's tongue ran over his scarred gums as he stormed out of the kitchen. Albert knew this argument was far from finished, but he was fairly confident Jet would stay put, for now. He ran his left hand through his graying hair and flung it in the air in frustration. "Just get it done as fast as you can, Gilmore! Our lives and freedom depend on it."

"I will. I promise," Gilmore said gravely before leaving the kitchen.

* * *

"Jet?"

He looked up from the book he was reading and saw Frances at the door. She looked a lot better, but still pretty pale. He was laying on a bed in his and Albert's guest room. He sat up and gave her his attention.

"How's Ivan?" he asked.

"Same. Ann must have done something bad. So tell me about how Albert's doing. He's being rather incorrigible lately." She took a seat on the edge of the empty bed across from Jet.

"Yeap, but it has got to run its course."

"Surely you can talk some sense into him."

"Not a lick, but he'll come around."

"I know, I just wonder why he's so sour," she said.

"Because, he feels he failed us, and for the first time in a long time, he has no plan to keep us safe from a new threat. He's always felt responsible for our safety, and it's not easy for a guy to admit he didn't do everything he could to keep his family safe. To top it off, he's pissed off he doesn't have a whole body."

"But that shouldn't matter! He needs to rely on us, especially after all these years."

"Albert has more than his share of pride under that cool exterior; you know that as well as I do. He's not the type to take an invalid role gracefully. Me knowing that is the only thing keeping me from strangling him with his own scarf," Jet said, getting doleful.

"I know, he's been very surly with you. I'm afraid for Albert and Ivan."

"I know," Jet said, extending his hand to Frances. She took it in a firm, desperate grip. He gave her a confident smile. "I know how to tame Al, so you concentrate on Ivan. Okay?"

"A deal," she said, squeezing their clasped hands tighter. "Jet, take care of yourself, too. Don't hesitate to talk to me if Albert gets too much."

Jet smirked and shook his head. "He's dealing with it, poorly, but like I said, he'll come around when his mind gets things hashed out about those other cyborgs. Heck, they threw me for a loop, too."

"I think they're good people caught in a bad situation."

Jet shook his head. "I'm not willing to gamble my freedom on."

Frances stood and let go of his hand. "I know we should be cautious, but if we could convince them to leave, wouldn't the Black Ghost lose a big advantage they have?"

"They messed up Al pretty good, so I'm not exactly feeling generous towards them right now."

"I know, but you're a little more forgiving than you once were."

"I've had to be, or you guys would have murdered me a long time ago," he said, giving her a smirk. She chuckled before leaving him alone again.

* * *

Ivan wandered around his own corroded mindscape. He had been working hard at trying to process the news of his parents' deaths. Every time he tried, an incredible despair would knock him to his knees and leave him breathless with the desire to do bodily harm to himself. He now could awaken his body, but he was too terrified of this mad compulsion Ann had put in his head. It was best for him to be incorporeal until her attack wore off some.

Also, Ann weighed heavily on his mind. Her vengefulness towards him didn't surprise him, but he was disturbed all the same. Mentally, she was a young girl when he left; mentally, he was an adult at that time. She didn't have the capacity to understand why he left, and as she mentally matured, it had festered into a giant wound that wouldn't easily be healed.

Not only that, she'd become powerful. Ivan had no doubt he was still more powerful, but she knew how to exploit his weakness. He couldn't, and wouldn't, let that happen again. Ivan walked from the metal, wires, and oily sludge part of his mindscape towards the chilly, foggy bog. He found the stagnant, festering pond he was looking for and sat on a decaying log next to it.

If there was one gift Ann gave him during their exchange, it was the knowledge of this particular spot in his mindscape, one that needed draining. It was the repository of his feelings towards Albert, Frances, and Jet. It was in rancid, fetid shape, and he'd never bothered to address it. Now, staying in his mindscape, he really no excuse to not deal with it.

He stretched out his hand and the murky water bubbled up. His eyes flared a bright blue as the bubbling grew more rapid and frantic, releasing some of the noxiousness into the air. After a minute he lowered his hand, exhausted, and his eyes faded back. The pond was far from clean, and he'd have to work on it, little by little. At least it was a start.

* * *

"They didn't show." Junior made the observation after he loaded a huge crate in the back of a truck. Chang hopped up in the truck's bed and proceeded to tie the crate down. Pyunma looked around the Brazilian coast. They were to deliver a crate of weapons to a group of people deep in the forest. Pyunma had a feeling the group might have evil intentions, but he wasn't sure how he could foil their plans.

"I know, that bothers me. They could be waiting to ambush us in the forest," Pyunma said. He looked up to see a tropical, colorful bird circling. Pyunma activated the electro communication transmitter in his brain and asked, "GB, any sign?"

"No sign of them, or anything else for that matter," the former actor's word filled Pyunma's ears.

"We'll be leaving in a minute." Pyunma didn't want to admit his rising unease at their first generation counterparts not showing during the last two missions they ran. He had to admit he was worried about them, but there was nothing they could do about their situation, or the first generation, without them showing up and having a long conversation with them.

He smacked his fist in his palm and got in beside Junior, who was going to drive the truck. "We need them to help us out. Otherwise, we'll be trapped with the Black Ghost a very long time."

"They'll show up. If 003 is like GB says, they'll come looking for us," Junior assured Pyunma.

"We'll wait them out," Pyunma agreed as Junior started the truck and drove towards the drop off point.

* * *

Ryu Kitagawa didn't like the situation Akira was setting up tonight. His cousin and his new bride had rushed off to tour Japan before Ryu could really sit down and talk Akira into a divorce. Ryu waited patiently for their return for a whole month. When they showed back up, it was with a phone call inviting him to dinner so they could share some good news.

Ryu was certainly not dumb. He quickly concluded Akira was going to announce that his new bride was pregnant. His fear was that Akira would want to move back to California where he could lose control of him, he still didn't have a firm enough grip on the young man.

On his way to the formal restaurant, Ryu decided it may be for the best to embrace Akira's relationship with Julie. The girl, even thought he had only spent a few hours with her, struck him as overly sentimental and extremely naive. Ryu was willing to wager he could easily manipulate her if he could get a little more time with her. If Ryu could control Julie, then he could get Akira in line.

He hadn't worked out his plans entirely by the time he was seated in the restaurant. Shortly after he arrived, Akira and Julie showed up. Yes, they were holding hands and beaming at one another. Ryu knew what was coming, so he dredged up a pleasant, happy expression. After he greeted them, they sat across the table from him.

Ryu studied Julie for a few moments. He admitted she was extremely attractive and demure. He could see why Akira had picked her. He started to feel more optimistic when he recalled Julie had no parents, just a grandmother in Los Angles.

"So, you brought me here to tell me something?" Ryu asked, making a preemptive strike on his grinning cousin.

"Julie is pregnant," Akira blurted out in English, obviously elated.

"Congratulation are in order, but I'm kind of concerned," Ryu said in English, feigning worry. He picked up that Julie really didn't understand any Japanese, so Akira always spoke English around her. That only made Ryu happier. He'd have to ensure she stayed ignorant of their language.

"Concerned?" Akira asked. "Money isn't an issue."

"Yes, but where are you going to settle down?"

They both got a blank stares. Finally, Julie ventured, "We sort of thought about going back to see my grandmother."

"Nonsense. You both should move into my home. It's vast. They'll be plenty of space there for you and the baby. I'll even personally hire a nanny to assist you. You don't have to stay long term, just until you can get on your feet."

Akira turned to Julie. "It's a really an awesome house. It's where I lived when I was a little boy. It brings back some good memories of Aunt Hitomi. I wish you could have met her."

Julie looked uncertain. So Ryu pressed, "I'll put you and Akira up in my home for a week. You can talk it out and relax while you plan for the baby's arrival."

"Well, a week more wouldn't hurt," she said. Her worry washed away and she gave Ryu a bright smile. "Thanks for your kindness."

"You'll be doing me a kindness. I'm pretty lonely in that huge house. I'd love to have family around," Ryu said. He was confident in a week's time he could subtlely bully them into staying in Japan. After that, he'd get them wrapped around his finger and ensure he'd keep Akira's stake in the family business under his control.

The rest of the dinner was pleasant enough, but Ryu kept finding his eyes wandering over to Julie. Akira certainly did have good taste.

* * *

"Dang this chill. It's getting to my arthritis," Gaia griped to Uranus as they walked down the hallway towards one of the laboratories.

"We aren't getting younger," Uranus agreed when they arrived at the doorway to the laboratory. They opened the door and looked in. Ann Ember was still resting on a hospital bed, unresponsive.

"She knocked herself out. I just hope she permanently brought down 001."

"I seriously doubt that. Scar overestimated her, but she is still useful. I'm sure that new lot of cyborgs are happy to not have her around. Mark my words, they'll be a bunch of malcontents, too, and will try to leave."

"I know. That's why our secret project will be more successful. There was only so much leverage Van Bogart could get on that second lot," Gaia said. "We'll bide our time. We need to get in touch with Kitagawa and get him to send us more supplies, now that the second generation cyborgs are complete."

"Not quite complete. Remember Scar approved of the plan for a 009 design," Uranus reminded him. "The technology to sustain acceleration mode isn't there yet. It'll take years to get it to where Scar wants it. Otherwise, it's useless because 002 could then compete. As it is, he can only manage short bursts, which is very powerful. We need something that's even better or why bother."

"You make a good point. I'll mention to Kitagawa what the long term plans are and see if he'll change direction in his production to focus on that last piece of the second generation plans."

* * *

Albert woke up a little groggy and sat up slowly. He looked around the room to see Kaminari and Gilmore standing at the foot of his bed. He glanced down and was relieved to see he had his mechanical legs once again, even though his arm was still being worked on.

"Well, I hope that takes some of the sour apples out of you," Kaminari said, shooting Albert a dirty look.

A wave of embarrassment hit him. "I'm sorry for being a bad sport this whole time."

"We should have your arm fixed soon, so in the mean time, try to relax more. And for Heaven's sake, go apologize to that petulant redhead," Gilmore said. "He's getting just as testy as you are."

"Just as annoying, too," Kaminari said, before storming out of the room.

"I'll go," Albert said, sheepishly. He slid off the bed and slowly stood on his repaired legs. They seemed good once again. Gilmore left and Albert dressed in some gray sweat clothes. He felt his right upper arm with his left hand; he still felt vulnerable and helpless. It nagged at him, but he had to get back to normal and pull himself out of this black mood he was in.

First, he had to deal with Jet, because Jet had made good on his word and moved out of their shared room. He had slept on the sofa the past three days and avoided Albert. That was what Albert needed, space. Jet had given him a real gift that took a lot of sacrifice on the New Yorker's part. Jet thrived on affirmation, but he'd had to forgo that for the sake of their long-term relationship.

He found Jet setting up a house of cards on the coffee table in the living room. He gave Albert a quick glance. "Found your legs, hun? Good." Jet's terse statement invoked some guilt.

"Thank you for giving me some time to think things out."

"Not like you gave me much choice," Jet said snidely. "You're welcome though." Jet pushed back his longish hair that was now down to his shoulders. He had abandoned Pomade years ago, but left his hair the same length.

"I know I've been really hard on you. I'm sorry for that."

"Like I said, you didn't dish it on me as hard as I've had before, but it sure hurt like hell."

"I know it hurt, and all I can do is ask your forgiveness."

"No, there is one other thing you can do, and that's forgive yourself. We do these things to beat back the Black Ghost. There's risk doing what we're doing, but it has to be done. If you want to sit by and let the Black Ghost have their way, you're not the man I think you are. But..." Jet cracked the first smile he'd had in a week. "...I know you ain't that type of man. So is it a deal?"

"I'm getting there. You're right about us having to keep up this fight. What good is this family we've made if they win? All the suffering we've been through will have been in vain."

"Now that's the Albert I know," Jet said, turning back to the card house. Albert could tell things between him and Jet were still strained, but they would move in the right direction.

"Also, I have a bone to pick with Ivan," Albert said.

"And I have something to tell you."

Albert turned on the sofa and saw Ivan standing in the doorway that lead to the basement. His mood turned grim once again, surprised Ivan was now, suddenly awake. Ivan looked pretty grim, too, as he smoothed out his brown pajamas and sat on the floor across the coffee table from Albert and Jet.

In a flash the card house flew in the air and stacked itself as a deck of cards on the table. Jet glared and shouted, "Hey! I was working on that, you brat."

"Jet, could you get us something to eat?" Albert asked, anxious to get Jet out of the room.

Jet hesitated, but complied. Albert turned to Ivan, but it was the Russian cyborg that said, "I messed things up and almost got us killed."

"You know what went on?"

"I picked it out of Frances' mind a few days ago," Ivan replied. "It was my fault. I should have known."

"How were we to know about the new cyborgs? They kept this a huge secret."

_:But I could have know. There is a way for me to prevent this from happening again,: _Ivan projected into Albert's mind, crossing his legs and lowering his glowing gaze.

_:You mean by taking the same path your aunt took?:_ Albert asked, forming his thought clearly for Ivan to pick up. Ivan didn't respond immediately.

_:She predicted it would happen anyway. Maybe it's time to get it over with,:_ Ivan answered. _:I won't be able to function in reality any more, but at least it would keep us safe.:_

Albert calmed his mind and formed the thought,_ :Does that mean you'll go insane?:_

_:Schizophrenia always comes with clairvoyance. It's not possible to separate the two. No mind is strong enough to endure it.:_

_ :Why?:_

:_No one really knows. It's a mystery. I think its because the mind is struggling to process too much information about possible alternative futures. Regardless, facing Ann told me we could be headed into real trouble. If I would have developed clairvoyance before this point, I could have foreseen the other cyborgs and we could have struck preemptively to stop it.: _

_ :Nonsense. I told you no one is a slave to some sort of fate. Don't banish your sanity over this new wrinkle. We'll work around it like we always have. But we do have to find a way to keep tabs on these new cyborgs. I think we can reach them. Also, you should try to reach out to Ann.:_

Ivan shook his head. It dropped lower. "She absolutely despises me. She tried to get me to harm myself. And she told me something... bothersome."

"What is it?" Albert prodded when Ivan wasn't forthcoming.

"My parents are dead," he announced in a monotone.

Albert digested the news and understood how conflicted Ivan probably was. He got up and went over to Ivan, he sat on the carpet beside him and put his hand on Ivan's shoulder. "It's okay to feel sad that they're gone." Ivan looked up at Albert, a little surprised. "You wouldn't be human if you didn't have some sort of pain over their loss."

"I guess not. I just didn't expect to feel this way. I feel bitterness, but it really took me off guard to feel so sad."

"I overhead what you said about your parents," Jet said soberly, as he came from the kitchen with a plate of sandwiches. He set them on the coffee table. "I was sad over my folks when they were killed. I used to think I really hated them with everything I had, but it just wasn't the way it was. Let yourself be angry and sad and all those things. Heck, there was even a little twisted part of me that felt like gloating, and that gave me a guilt trip for a long time. You'll get over your grudge against them quicker when you just let yourself feel and don't try to tell yourself you should feel this way or shouldn't feel that way."

Albert was glad Jet was around. He knew Jet would have far more insight on this subject than he did. Albert had adored his parents and had fond memories of them. When he lost them to war, there was nothing but grief in his heart. For Jet, it was vastly more complicated when he lost his, and it was going to be the same for Ivan.

"I know. Ann was angry when I actually felt some relief that they were gone. She turned that around and did, indeed, make me feel guilty for feeling that way."

"Well, don't. If you're relived their gone, so be it. Tomorrow you'll probably feel sad, and then maybe angry again. No matter what, just give yourself permission to miss them and hate them," Jet said.

"Yes, I will. Thank you," Ivan said. He stood and took one of the sandwiches from the plate. "I need to get cleaned up and spend some time thinking."

After he left, Albert reached over and took Jet's hand. "You aren't the same person I met twenty years ago."

"Oh, so are you going to trade me in?"

"Not on your life."

* * *

Ryu smiled to himself as he heard the English argument. He sat in his study and marveled at all the damage he was able to do in a week. He was careful to keep Julie isolated and trapped in the house, while he got Akira to go out and continue on in his fun-loving life style. He gave the maids strict orders to never talk around Julie and he removed all radios and televisions, so he could keep her from making allies of any sort except for him.

Ryu used Akira's immature behavior this week to swoop in and become Julie's confidant, all with extravagant promises that he would straiten out Akira. Meanwhile, he told Akira behind her back that he married a nagging woman and should go live out the rest of his youth in spite of her tearful pleas.

Ryu found himself actually enjoying this game a great deal. He had Akira convinced that there was no future back in California. He told Akira, privately, he'd be willing to fund a year of his racing career if he stayed in Japan. That was too tempting to Akira, and he decided he wanted to stay.

Ryu looked up, annoyed when lightning struck. The rain had been constant since the morning. He stood and took a law book down from the self behind his desk. He heard more shouting and fighting. He smiled to himself when he heard Akira's rapid footsteps race down the stairs and the front door slam. Next were the squealing tires of the Maserati parked out front.

Next, he heard Julie wailing. He thought briefly about going upstairs to comfort her, but he had to wait for her to come to him. Let her be the needy one, so he could rub her nose in it and lord it over her when the time came. That would be a true pleasure.

It wasn't too long before she came into the study with red, swollen eyes and messed up, blond hair. "Kitagawa-san?"

"Please, isn't it time you called me Ryu, since we're family?"

"Is it true you offered to pay for Akira to race for a whole year if he stayed here?"

"Yes, I did. I think he has a bright future in his chosen career and I want to encourage that. Here in Japan I can take care of him and you."

"But I have a sick grandmother in California and I really feel I should be there."

"Your sick grandmother is my concern, too. I offered to hire a nurse for her."

"But a nurse isn't family."

"Aren't I family?" She looked taken aback and slightly embarrassed. "You knew when you married Akira that he was heir to a fortune. That comes with great responsibilities. I should think a new wife would want to make her husband happy before having to settle into the rigors of that life."

"I do, but I should be the one making him happy. He runs off all the time."

"You do make him happy. When he gets back, I'll have a talk with him."

She nodded and fled the study. Ryu got back to his paperwork for Shimamura Electronics. He looked up about four hours later when he heard a knocking at his front door. He heard his servant, Jiro, get the front door. Moments later there was a knock on the study door.

"Enter," he called out, wondering who would visit at eleven o'clock at night. One man in a trench coat stepped in. He and Akira exchanged bows.

"I'm am Detective Sato. It's my unfortunate duty to report that your cousin has been in an accident." Ryu felt a little nervous.

"What hospital is he at?"

The detective shook his head. "It was fatal."

Now Ryu felt a surge of panic and sorrow. For all of Akira's faults, he was still extremely fond of him.

"Thank you, Detective, for telling me in person."

"I can take you to where he is."

"Jiro, make sure Julie knows nothing about this. I'll be home in the morning and will tell her then." Of course the unspoken order to keep her inside the house was in effect. Ryu got his suit coat and walked after the detective.

His plans for Julie suddenly became more sinister and a higher priority. It was her stupid argument that drove Akira out of the house, and she would one day pay for that, but for now she was carrying the new heir to the Shimamura fortune. He'd keep a close eye on her until she gave birth, but then afterwards she would be punished.

To be continued.

Side Note: WingedPanther73 has started calling the next chapter "The Sad Ballad of Little Joe."


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